


You Keep Me Warm (25 Days of Draco and Harry)

by Tamyou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas fic, Coming Out, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Husbands, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mostly Just Actual Slash, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fill, Romance, Tags May Change, healing from past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 21,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamyou/pseuds/Tamyou
Summary: A drabble collection based on picture prompts, all revolve around Draco and Harry.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 133
Collections: 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2019





	1. Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter stands alone unless stated otherwise, and each chapter contains its own tags. All drabbles are Christmas related, but the theme and fluff-to-angst ratio may change. I chose to not include the actual images, but gave each chapter a one-word description as I felt this worked better with the idea I was going for.
> 
> Please mind the tags.
> 
> I own nothing.

The sweet smell of hot cocoa and fresh ginger cookies filled the kitchen as Harry sat down by the old, worn table, sighing in contenment as he looked out of the small window over the sink, watching the storm that was brewing outside of his warm, softly lit kitchen as evening bagan to set over London. He shivered, glad he didn't have anywhere he had to be that day. This year, he'd gotten all of his Christmas shopping out of the way as soon as sales started. This year, he had more exciting things to worry about.  
  
There was less than a week until Christmas, and Harry was already ready for his first time hosting a Christmas party. He's been living in no.12 Grimmauld Place for a little over three years now, and this year, after finally finishing the last touches in turning the old, gloomy house into an inviting home, after the trials were over and the wizarding world was finally ready to find some sense of normalcy, he's decided it was his turn to host, as a way of saying thank you to the Weasleys for all the years they've been treating him as family.  
  
Taking a sip out of his steaming mug, Harry closed his eyes, savouring the sweet, hot drink that settled in his stomach, warming him from the inside. Three years. Voldemort was gone for three years. Things were finally starting to look normal. The ruins and the demage that were left in his wake were slowly being fixed and rebuilt. It seemed like everything was falling back into place, but Harry, who had the misfortune to always find himself in the middle of a mess, knew it was just a facade.  
  
Right after the war, the Ministry was in a frenzy. Desperate as always to present a functional front, every person who had anything to do with the war was brought into questioning, and more than a few of the cells in Azkaban - now far more tolerable without the dementors there to keep guard with inhuman torment - were filled with people who were not at any fault. Harry, on his part, had done his best to spare as many of them a life in prison as he could by providing his statement as the Boy-Who-Lived, testifying for those who did not deserve such harsh punishment.  
  
One of those he spoke for, was Draco Malfoy.  
  
Harry sighed, dipping the tip of his pinky into his hot cocoa and licking it off absenmindedly, thinking of the Malfoys' trials. It was one of the cases where even his testimony had not been enough, even with everything he told the aurors about that day at the manor, and how he would have never been able to end the war if it wasn't for Draco Malfoy and the courage he found to defy Voldemort as he had. Draco Malfoy was still thrown into Azkaban along with his parents, but the sentence had been so short and petty, Harry knew it was only set in place to serve as an example. He remembered the way those troubled grey eyes found his as Draco was led out of the room, and, amongst the resignation and the shame he saw in them, there was also a hint of wonder as they nodded at each other, and gratitude.  
  
Harry shot a glance at the cooling tray of freshly baked cookies, and bit his lip. It wasn't all that bad, he thought. He'd heard Malfoy and his mother have been released a few months ago, and while the public's attitude towards anyone who was associated with Voldemort and his Death Eaters was less than favorable, at least he was free. Harry has been thinking about contacting him, some part of him desperately wanting to talk to him in person, if only to return the wand that was resting in the plain wooden box in the back of Harry's nightstand drawer. But Harry didn't know how.  
  
Harry shook his head. There was no use thinking about such gloomy thing right now. It was almost Christmas, and he should be in a festive mood, make preparations for the party, and bake more cookies. His gaze landed on the tray on the counter once more. It was true that they've been meant for the party, but... surely, one cookie wouldn't hurt, right?  
  
After a few more minutes of a much lighter internal arguement, the younger voice in Harry's head that didn't get to enjoy a lot of sweets - or any kind of food - as a child won, and the chair scraped noisily against the wooden floor as Harry got up. He barely managed to stretch a greedy hand toward the cooling tray when a loud knock coming from his front door made him jump, like a little boy caught with his hand inside... well.  
  
A little embarrassed at his reaction, Harry gave the sweet smelling cookies one last, forlorn glance, before he pouted to himself with a quiet grumble and moved out of the kitchen to answer the door.  
  
There was a louder, more inssintant knock on the door, and Harry frowned, quickening his pace. He didn't know who it could be. Ron and Hermione were still away on their honeymoon, although they did promise to come back in time for Christmas. Ginny lived far enough that she would never come through anything but floo, and George... well, George has never been quite as social as he'd been before the war. There was no one Harry could think of that would bother him that late, and years of standing on guard made him draw out his wand, holding it in a ready position, just in case.  
  
Another loud knock, more desperate than the ones before, and Harry tensed, his hand squeezing the knob. He tightened his hold on his wand, took a deep breath, and opened the door.  
  
A gust of freezing wind blew into the house when the door flew open, bringing swirling snowflakes and wet leaves with it. But Harry barely even noticed. Because in front of him, stood Draco Malfoy.  
  
A shivering Draco Malfoy.  
  
Draco Malfoy... with a bruise on his cheek.  
  
"What-" Harry started, but then, two stormy grey eyes lifted up to meet his own, and he couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
"Potter," Malfoy said, and his voice was hoarse and more defeated than Harry had ever heard it, and Harry's chest tightened as he thought, _This isn't right_.

"I'm sorry." Malfoy whispered. "I just... I didn't know where else to go."


	2. Carnival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

"Don't let go of my hand."  
  
Harry smiled, watching his husband slender fingers close around their six years old son's much smaller ones when he finished fixing Scorpius's winter cloak and straightened up. As if feeling Harry's gaze on him, Draco turned his head around, raising a teasing eyebrow as he caught his eye.  
  
"Like what you see, Potter?"  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
"How is she?" Draco asked then, the flirty glint in his grey eyes softening a little as he nodded at the bundle of tiny blankets in Harry's arms. Harry lifted one corner of the thick, warm blanket, peering inside with a gentle smile.  
  
"Still sleeping." He said, adjusting his hold of the one and half year old baby girl who was softly snoring into his chest. "I hope she would wake up in time, but I'm not gonna risk a screaming fit in the middle of the carnival."  
  
Draco winced. "Yeah, better not." He agreed. For such a tiny little girl, their little Pavo had very strong lungs, as the two of them soon learned. Scorpius, for all of his very Malfoy-ish attitude and slightly spoiled nature - being a treasured first child to two doting dads had its perks - was a very docile baby. Nothing had prepared them for all the sleepless nights and headaches that came with having a crankier baby. Pavo was a handful, but then again, so was Draco. Harry was used to it.

Making sure their daughter was once again protected from the cold winter evening, Harry turned his attention back to his son and husband. With one last touch-up to the fluffy earmuffs on Scorpius's blond head, the small family made its way towards the source of all the noise and music. Scorpius's eyes lit up in excitement when the sound of delighted screams of other children reached his ears, and he pulled on his father's hand, eager to join the festivities.  
  
"Dads, hurry up!" He chirped excitedly, jumping up and down with pent up energy. Harry laughed.  
  
"The rides won't go anywhere, sweetheart." He said, but his words fell on deaf ears as Draco found himself being dragged by a six year old.

Harry had no choice but to follow.  
  


* * *

  
  
Past the gates, Harry was suddenly glad he was the one in charge of Pavo. The little girl was still sound asleep, allowing Harry to look around him and enjoy a hot cup of apple cider as he watched his husband trying to keep up with their overexcited, sugar-high son. Scorpius was pulling Draco this way and that, forcing him to try out all the unfamiliar muggle rides and booths his wide grey eyes landed on.  
  
Harry laughed quietly to himself as Draco turned around helplessly, his gaze falling on Harry who was calmly sipping his cider while leaning against the side of a cheerfully lit booth. His eyes narrowed in annoyance at the impish grin Harry shot him over the rim of the cup, and Harry wriggled his fingers over the blanked in greeting, eyes twinkling with amusement.  
  
"Having fun?" He called, snorting at the murderous look he received in return.  
  
A small noise came from somewhere around his chest, and Harry looked down, sliding some of the blanket off to reveal a mess of dark hair, sleepy eyes and a tiny, pouting mouth. His grin quickly softened into a warm smile and he put aside his paper cup, moving to adjust the blanket better around his now awake daughter who was blinking at him owlishly, looking about at the joyous carnival around her in confusion.  
  
"Good morning, little bird." Harry cooed, moving Pavo to rest on his hip so she could look around better. "Did you have a good nap?"  
  
Pavo made a small snuffling noise, resting her head on her father's shoulder sleepily, and nodded. Harry stroked a thumb over her cheek.  
  
"What do you say we go find Daddy and Scorpius?" He asked, receiving another silent nod. He wasn't worried about the lack of verbal response, already used to his daughter being less talkative and more cuddly right after waking up. He felt her tiny hand playing with the collar of his sweater, and moved a corner of the blanket up to protect it from the cold evening air.  
  
"Daddy!" Scorpius squealed when he saw his father approaching, abandoning the booth where Draco was just teaching him how to aim at a bottleneck with a few plastic rings. "Daddy, look! Daddy just won us a big scary tiger!" He chirped, pointing at the stuffed animal that his father was holding. Harry smiled down at him.  
  
"That's brilliant," he nodded in agreement. "Daddy is, after all, very good at aiming."  
  
Draco made a small, strangled noise.  
  
"Anyway," Harry continued, grinning as if he didn't hear anything. "Look who just woke up. What do you say we go get something to eat? I'm sure there are a lot of sweets you haven't managed to put your little hands on."

Scorpius nodded eagely, pushing his plush tiger into Harry's free hand.

"Here," He said, grinning at his father. "For Pavo."


	3. Yule

"You look nice."  
  
Harry, who was standing right by the outer doors to the great hall where not many eyes would find him turned around, already smiling, and took in the sight of Draco Malfoy who was coming down the stairs to join Harry where he stood under the snow-covered Christmas trees, hiding in the shadows. Draco had always looked good, always kept his hair meticulously styled and his clothes spotless. But right then, dressed in his elegant grey and black dress robes that hugged his body just right, and with his hair moderately slicked and parted in one side, allowing soft silver-blond strands to fall over his eyes, he looked more than just nice. He looked outright handsome, breathtaking, and Harry found himself blushing when he realized Draco was assessing him the same way, an appreciative eyebrow rising delicately.  
  
"Thanks," Harry smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping his face didn't look as heated as it felt. "You look really n-nice, too."  
  
"I know." Draco smirked, stopping right in front of Harry, who all of a sudden was no longer embarrassed, but fondly exasperated as he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Of course you do." He smiled, then leaned in to steal a chaste kiss, doing his best not to mess Draco's hair or robes as he did value his life at least a little. He glanced at where Professor McGonagall was standing talking to the rest of the champions and their dates. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at his boyfriend. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
Draco nodded, moving to stand on Harry's side before taking his arm. His hand squeezed briefly over Harry's wrist, and when he looked into his eyes there was no trace of teasing in them, but determination andlove. "Yes, I am." He said with confidence Harry hoped was real, allowing his trademark smirk to stretch his lips once more. "Now, let's go break some hearts, Scarhead."  
  


* * *

  
  
The first dance went as well as Harry had expected. He had only stepped on Draco's toes twice, and tripped just that one time where they had to do a twirl. The stunned, bewildered buzz of the scandalized Hogwarts students - and some of the staff, too - that had followed them from the moment they had stepped into the great hall until halfway through the first dance had subsided by now to the occasional murmur and pointed looks whenever he and Draco had to spin near the edge of the crowd. It was a better reaction than he had expected, really, and yet... he was yet to find Ron's eyes in the crowd, avoiding looking anywhere but at Draco for the entire dance and knowing full well that his best friend was definitely going to throw a fit at him showing up to the Yule Ball with none other than Draco Malfoy as his date.  
  
No one knew they were dating. After the events of the summer and the mess during the Quidditch World Cup, Draco had what could only be called a paradigm shift. Seeing first hand what following in the footsteps of his father truly meant, Draco slowly began to question everything he had learned about the Dark Lord since childhoon. No longer able to look away, he started changing his mind about the ideals his father had taught him to believe in, and it was inevitable that he had eventually made his decision, and sought out Harry Potter for guidance and advice. With blood-purity and animousity making room for understanding and friendship, it didn't take long for the two of them to get closer.  
  
It was sometime before Harry's first task, while they were sitting alone in a hidden corner of the library and looking for ways for Harry to defeat a fully grown dragon that Draco had had enough, closed the book he had in his lap and pulled Harry in for their very first kiss.  
  
They had hidden their growing relationship from the rest of the school. At first, it was because Harry didn't even have anyone to tell, as Ron was not speaking to him and Hermione had too much to worry about to pay him any attention. They enjoyed the secrecy at the beginning, found the challenge to be thrilling... but as the Yule Ball approached, Draco decided it was time to tell the world - and his father - and asked Harry to be his official date. Harry had agreed.  
  
"Harry Potter, honestly!" A shrill voice cried behind him when he finally managed to sneak off the dance floor and away from the still whispering voices and judgemental looks, pulling Draco into a quieter corner where the music wasn't so loud. He turned around with a sheepish smile to face a very peevish Hermione who was glaring at him with fire burning in her brown eyes, a few strands of her carefully constructed hair getting loose and in her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. Ron was standing behind her, staring at his best friend and their - former - blond nemesis, his face a mask of disbelief.

"Sorry." Harry smiled shyly, but he wasn't really sorry at all. He watched as Hermione struggled to stay mad, but eventually her fundamental curiousity won, and she puffed up her chest, tapping her shoe. She looked like she was going to launch into a full-blown interrogation, and Harry held up his hand, aware of the many looks and ears that were still focused on them.

"I'll tell you everything later, okay?" He said in an appeasing tone. "Not here."

Hermione looked like she was going to argue further, but then her arms dropped to her sides and she took a deep breath, nodding her agreement. "Fine. But I want all the details!" She said firmly. Harry smiled.

"You bet." He said, his eyes now turning to his best friend, who was still standing slightly behind Hermione and still hasn't said a word. "Ron?" Harry tried, his fingers curling around Draco's, hidden from sight under their long, wide sleeves. He looked at his best friend nervously, the person whose reaction he was dreading the most. "Are you alright?"  
  
Ron blinked.  
  
"So," He said slowly."In your mind, you consider _that_ a good way to come out?"  
  
Relief washed over Harry, and he couldn't stop the grin that stretched his mouth as he met Ron's blue eyes and saw them flashing with jest.  
  
"That's all Draco, to be honest." He shrugged. "I'm just here for the ride."


	4. Wiltshire

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Harry whispered as he hurried to match his boyfriend's - _fiancé_ , he reminded himself, his stomach doing a giddy flip at the thought - long steps while trying not to slip on the icy pavement that led to the grandest house he's ever seen.  
  
He'd only been there once before, and he couldn't say the memory was a fond one. Some of his nights were still haunted by the echo of Hermione's screams, and the memory of burying Dobby so soon after. Those were the nights he allowed Draco to comfort him, let his arms soothe away the fear and his kisses to remind him that even then, in the midst of all the horror and pain, Draco was still protecting him the best he could.

The snow crunched under Harry's feet, his gaze distractedly falling to watch the footprints they were leaving in the snow as his mind replayed the memory of nightmares again and again, the echoes of fear swirling in his mind like the snowflakes that had stopped falling a while ago.  
  
Harry startled out of his thoughts as Draco suddenly stopped walking, causing Harry to almost bump into him. Draco's gloved hand found his and gripped it tight, pulling Harry to his side, lowering his face to press his nose against messy black hair. "Stop." He murmured into Harry's ear, his breath damp and warm against his cold skin.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled back, even when Draco's shook his head in response.

"Don't." He said quietly, pressing a kiss into Harry's temple. "I know you don't like this," He continued in the same low tone even though they were the only people still outside, having arrived so late at the Christmas Ball the Malfoys were hosting, the first they'd dared to have since the war ended. "But we need to do this, and mother truly wishes to meet you, preferably before the wedding. Officially, that is."  
  
"And your father?" Harry asked. He hadn't seen either of the senior Malfoys since the end of the war. The trials didn't leave much room to socialize, especially between convicts and witnesses. Lucius Malfoy had only recently been released from his three-years sentence in Azkaban, and Draco's mother had used the opportunity to both reintroduce the Malfoy family back to society, and to persuade her son to bring his boyfriend to finally meet his parents.  
  
"Father would just have to deal with it." Draco said firmly, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders as he led them towards the marble stairs, his lips twitching into a smile as he felt Harry's arm sneaking in return to grab him by the waist. "He knows he doesn't stand a chance against both Mother and me."  
  
Harry snorted, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. No matter what would happen tonight, at least he knew Draco would stay by his side the whole time.  
  


* * *

  
"A word alone, if you please, Mr. Potter."  
  
The colour left Harry's face as the sound of Narcissa Malfoy's calm voice, his panicked green eyes shooting up to search Draco's for help. Unfortunately, Draco was far too busy trying to wave off a wealthy Ministry pet who was trying - quite rudely, considering Harry's presence not even three meters away - to introduce his single, available daughter to Draco.  
  
 _Traitor_ , Harry thought vehemently as he felt Narcissa's delicate hand close over his arm.  
  
"Shall we?" She asked sweetly, her grey eyes, while not quite cold as Harry knew they could be, were still watching him in a calculating manner, as if trying to strip him down to his very soul.  
  
"Y-yes, of course." Harry nodded politely, swallowing his panic and giving his fiancé one last desperate glance before accepting his fate and allowing Narcissa Malfoy to lead him as she pleased.  
  
The grand doors closed behind them, the sound of cheerful music and the buzz of chatter dulled by the large oak doors as they stepped outside onto the snow-covered front porch. Harry allowed Narcissa to take him towards the back, where the noise from inside was muffled to a low hum. She sat down on one corner of a small, ornate bench, gesturing for Harry to do the same.  
  
"I wanted to thank you, Harry."  
  
Harry blinked. Whatever he was expecting Narcissa Malfoy wanted taking him to such a secluded place, this wasn't it. "Excuse me?" He blurted dumbly.  
  
Narcissa smiled, and Harry thought that a smile looked quite sweet on her regal face. When she wasn't staring at everything like it personally offended her, she reminded Harry of how Draco looked on weekend mornings, right before the day would start when he would greet Harry with a soft, still sleepy smile and a bedhead as he handed him a steaming cup of tea. It was one of his favorite things about Draco, and seeing the same smile on his mother's face made the wariness Harry was feeling melt away in an instant.  
  
"I think you heard me, Mr. Potter." She said, her grey eyes twinkling.  
  
"But, I don't understand-"  
  
"You've saved this family, time and again-"  
  
"No, it was Draco who did," Harry cut in, his ears burning in embarrassment. He didn't know how to handle the fact that Narcissa Malfoy, a woman he had only met twice and was someone Harry never considered befriending, was insistent on complimenting, _praising_ him. "a-and you as well-"  
  
"That was self-serving, I assure you-" Narcissa tried again, clearly amused by the flustered expression on Harry's face but unwilling to give up without a fight.  
  
"Still, the world is safe because Draco and you refused-"  
  
"Mr. Potter, do not argue with me!" Narcissa said firmly, her severe expression ruined by the faint smile she couldn't keep off her face. "I am trying to thank you." She drawled, sounding very much like her son when Draco was looking at Harry like he was an idiot, which happened more often than Harry's pride allowed him to admit.  
  
Harry flushed. "Sorry." He murmured, looking away in embarrassment and rubbing the back of his neck.

Narcissa waved her hand in dismissal.  
  
"In any case, I wanted to make it clear to you, Harry." She said, and there was no humour in her eyes anymore as they met his, but such a sincere and honest gratitude that Harry's breath caught in his throat, startled to see such a naked emotion aimed at him when he was least expecting it. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died before they even reached his throat, as he felt Narcissa's warm hand covering his. "You've been considered a part of this family long before you started dating my son." She continued, and all of a sudden Harry's throat felt just a little bit tighter. "We owe you everything we have today, including our lives." Her hand squeezed his, and the soft smile on her face reminded Harry of another he had seen once in an enchanted mirror when he was only eleven year old. "I know you don't have a lot of reasons to trust us, or even like us, but I do hope that maybe someday, Wiltshire would feel like home to you, too."


	5. Hogsmeade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short one this time. Oop.

"You can't be serious."

"What?"

"This is where you take me on our first official date?" Harry turned to the side with his arms crossed, fixing his boyfriend with a dry look.

"Really Potter, it's not like we are two blushing kids that need to impress each other with overly romantic gestures." Draco drawled, using the same dry tone. "I've already had your cock shoved in my arse. Unclench."

Harry snorted into his gloved hand, coughing as he looked around them with pink cheeks, making sure no one heard them.

"I really do hate you." He said, smiling as rubbed his nose to cover his embarrassment.

"Not more than I do you." Draco smirked, looping his arm around Harry's and dragging him into the small café he'd chosen.

The last time Harry had been to Madam Puddifoot on a date, the day had gone extremely bad. Cho and he were not compatible in the least, and with the whole Umbridge mess, it wasn't that surprising that they didn't last.

Who would have thought that three years later, with nothing worse than his eighth year's N.E.W.Ts to get through, he'd be back there with Draco Malfoy on his arm of all people, prepared to have a sweet, romantic date with the guy he'd loved even before he knew what love really was.

"I still think it's too pink." He said, just so he could say he tried, but still let Draco lead him to a small table in the corner, where a small Christmas Star sat glowing in the middle, inviting them in. Harry smiled.

Maybe this date would go slightly better than the last.


	6. Holly

"Harry, have you seen my wand?"  
  
A blond head peeked into the Grimmauld Place living room - no longer gloomy and dusty but recently renovated and redesigned into a real home - frowning at the dark-haired man that waved a suspiciously familiar wand at their Christmas tree, making strings of red and gold to wrap around the naked branches.  
  
Once he was certain his sticking charms would last for the next few weeks, Harry lowered his arm, turning around to look at Draco with a sheepish smile.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes. "That's mine, you know."  
  
"I couldn't find mine," Harry shrugged. "And yours works just as well for me."  
  
"Well, not all of us are masters of numerous wands." Draco huffed, marching over and stretching his palm impatiently for his wand. "Thief," he accused as soon as it was in his hand.  
  
"If I admit to the crime, could I steal a kiss as well?"  
  
"You disgust me, Potter." Draco sneered, but leaned in anyway.

* * *

Christmas morning found Draco still in bed, pulling a blanket over his head to block out the pale winter light and cursing Harry's awful habit of leaving the curtains open every night so he could, _"Watch the stars and see you in them, Draco."_ as he always explained with that impish grin plastered on his face. As if Draco couldn't see right through _that_ load of sap.  
  
Still, Draco knew Harry had an entirely different reason for wanting to be in as an open space as possible when it was getting dark, and if he didn't want to say that out loud, Draco wasn't going to make him. He knew.  
  
On Christmas morning though, that meant that all of his plans of sleeping in were shot as soon as the first rays of soft winter dawn lit up their dark bedroom.  
  
He couldn't breathe under that bloody blanket. Groaning in annoyance, Draco slithered one arm out of the warmth of the covers, reaching blindly towards the nightstand where their wands were. He murmured a sleepy, " _Operio,_ " and sighed in satisfaction as faint darkness fell over the room once more. He let the wand fall onto the covers near his head, wriggling closer to Harry's warmth with a yawn and coaxing him to drape an arm around his waist.  
  
"Did you just use my wand?" Suddenly came a sleepy mumble and a warm breath that ruffled his hair.  
  
Draco's eyes snapped open. He blinked the sleep away, his lips parting in surprise as he watched Harry's thin hand picking up the wand from within the mess of covers, lazily rolling it between his fingers.  
  
"I guess I did," He breathed.  
  
"Why so surprised?" Harry asked curiously, stifling a yawn. Draco shrugged, taking the wand from Harry to turn in over in his hands.  
  
"Just... never thought Holly would work for me. It's typically made for would-be heroes."  
  
A hand came to rest over his, stilling his motions until he tore his eyes from the Holly and Phoenix feather wand, grey eyes shifting to the side to meet green.  
  
"It is." Harry agreed. He plucked the wand out of Draco's hands and put it back on the nightstand before burrowing himself back under the covers and pulling Draco under with him. Draco scowled.  
  
"Well then it shouldn't work for me. I was no hero, Potter."  
  
"You were mine."  
  
Draco was silent for a long moment, searching Harry's face for any sign of insincerity or an attempt to placate him, and found none. His scowl turned into a mock sneer, and he opened his mouth to say-  
  
" _You disgust me, Potter_." Harry announced, and Draco couldn't stop the snort of laughter that burst out of him even as he shoved at Harry's face.


	7. Letter

"Go wash up for dinner. You're filthy." Draco ordered as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace, giving his son a pointed look as the newly eleven year old boy tried to hide his dirty hands behind his back with a sheepish smile.  
  
"Listen to your father." Harry plucked the new maroon beanie off Scorpius's head, running his hand through the signature Malfoy silvery-blond hair. "You smell like snow and mud, you little jarvey." He smirked, pretending not to notice the way his husband glared at him as their son bolted up the stairs to clean up, already familiar with the argument that never seemed to end.  
  
"You promised." Draco accused.  
  
Harry laughed. "I didn't break any rules! I said jarvey, not ferr-"  
  
"Don't!"  
  
"Alright, alright." Harry smiled, pushing himself onto his tiptoes to kiss the corner of Draco's frowning mouth, watching the scowl melt away. "I apologise for trying to find a loop hole in our deal. Although you really have only yourself to blame, to be completely honest. You can't expect me to be married to a Slytherin and not pick up anything."  
  
"Excuses." Draco accused, but still sneaked an arm around his husband's waist, pulling him towards the kitchen. "Now come, you heathen. I'm starving."  
  


* * *

  
Half-way through dinner, a small rapping noise came from the window, where a tired looking tawny owl was standing impatiently, clutching a thick envelope in its beak.  
  
They all knew exactly what it was.  
  
Nearly falling out of his seat in his haste, Scorpius jumped up excitedly, rushing towards the window to let the owl in. He snatched the envelope from the grip the owl had on it, patting it distractedly as an apology before the disgruntled bird puffed its feathers indignantly and flew to land in front of Harry, who fed it a few bits of his dinner, stroking the owl's beak.  
  
"I've been accepted!" Scorpius cried excitedly, rushing back to the table, waving the thick, rich parchment.  
  
"Shocking, indeed." Draco rolled his eyes, but there was a proud smile on his lips. Harry snorted.  
  
"Don't listen to him," he said to his son as Scorpius came to present him with his very own Hogwarts letter, shuffling through the pieces of parchment to find the list of books they would need to buy. "We are very proud of you, honey."  
  
Scorpius smiled, reading his letter again, and again... and then his smile faltered.  
  
"Dad?" He asked, his voice an expression hesitant, but there was a sly glint in his eyes that made Harry more than a little suspicious. "When I'm Sorted..."  
  
"Yes?" Harry asked kindly nonetheless.  
  
"What if I'm in Slytherin?"  
  
The words were barely out of his lips before he had to duck, squealing in laughter as he had to escape the stinging hex Draco swiftly sent his way as Harry burst into peals of laughter that perfectly matched their son's.  
  
"This is all your fault, Potter!"


	8. Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and disgusting.

"It's not that hard."

"Nope."

"You have to try it at least once!"

"Never."

"Potter, you make me look like an idiot standing here waiting for you."

"Serves you right for dragging me here. I'm not going to go out there just to fall on my arse for your enjoyment, thanks."

Draco sighed, sliding a little backwards and twisting back, gesturing around him. "Look, there are lots of people here who can't skate, but they learn, just like you. I promise no one is going to laugh at you but me. Please?"

"You make such a compelling argument."

Draco snorted. "I know." He smirked. "You already have your shoes on, just stand up and take a step." He encouraged as he watched Harry's resolve wavering. He wouldn't say it out loud - especially now that he was on the verge of getting his boyfriend to come out of his shell - but Harry looked quite fetching with his cheeks rosy from the cold and his lower lip trapped between his teeth as he glanced around, trying to make sure no one was watching. No one was, Draco knew. That was the entire reason he'd chosen a muggle site for their Christmas vacation, where no one would recognize them. He stretched out a hand to Harry, inviting and open, and a slow grin spread on his face when Harry finally gave in and grasped it, allowing Draco to pull him to his feet and onto the ice.

"Hold on to me," Draco instructed, slowly and carefully pulling Harry with him, feeling the warm swell of pride in his stomach as Harry slid beside him, gripping Draco's arms as if his life depended on it.

"Don't let go." Harry warned, looking like a newborn fawn. Draco smiled.

"Never."


	9. Glass Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the drabbles the warnings in the tags refer to, please mind them.

"Open this one now," Harry grinned, handing Draco a small box, wrapped in blindly brilliant green and silver wrapping paper that made Draco raise an eyebrow.  
  
"Now?" Draco asked, eyeing him suspiciously before looking back at the box that Harry still held out to him. "And Slytherin-themed? Honestly, Potter." He rolled his eyes, but took the gift anyway, his haughty expression somewhat softened by the tiny upwards curl of his lips.  
  
"Just shut up and open it," Harry chided, still smiling. "I know it's not exactly traditional for Christmas Eve, but I really think you'll like it."  
  
"If this is a prank I swear to Merlin, I am going to get Hagrid to set one of his skrewts on you." Draco threatened, sitting down on the large sofa and carefully unwrapping his present. He lifted the lid off the box and looked inside, sucking in a sharp breath.  
  
"Do you like it?" Harry asked hesitantly, sinking onto the sofa beside him, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his left sleeve. Draco reached inside, slowly pulling out a small glass dragon figurine, completely transparent except for the light purple and silver shine it gave when the light from the fireplace hit it just right. He stroked it with a single finger, his eyes fixed in the way it nuzzled against him, its long body wrapping around his wrist like a bracelet. He looked up at Harry, his eyes unreadable. "Well?" Harry asked again, now feeling extremely self-conscious.  
  
Draco's eyes softened, a ghost of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Harry's lips. "It's beautiful," he murmured. "Thank you."  
  


* * *

  
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked quietly as he burrowed himself closer to Draco's side, pulling his socked feet up on the sofa. He watched the tiny frown between Draco's eyebrows as the blond lazily played with the glass dragon, longing to reach out and smooth that frown away. Draco hummed distractedly, still staring at the squirming dragon.  
  
"He used to whip us." He said quietly.  
  
Harry froze.  
  
Slowly raising his eyes up, horrified green met grey, and Harry held his breath, not daring to move.  
  
"Well, not with an actual whip," Draco continued in the same quiet voice, looking back at the little glass dragon that curled up inside his palm. "But he didn't need one. Every time something went wrong, or he was angry, or even when was just bored, sometimes. Mother tried to shield me from it. She always does. But when the Dark Lord wishes something to happen, there's very little someone like mother can do."  
  
Harry closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Draco's shoulder. A heavy sigh escaped past his lips, his hand moving to curl around his boyfriend's fingers in comfort. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure there was anything he _could_ say, anything he _should_ say. Draco'd never spoken before of the year he had spent trapped in the Malfoy manor with Voldemort and the rest of his cruel followers. Harry felt tears sting the back of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut harder.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
He didn't say it was alright. He didn't say he was fine now. He didn't say it was over. Harry already knew it wasn't.  
  
But this was a little step in the right direction, a brief glance behind the glass, and Harry couldn't ask for more than that.


	10. Reindeer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be read as a sort of prequel for "Yule".

"Come on, hurry up!"  
  
Draco felt his hand being grabbed seconds before he found himself stumbling down the uneven slope leading towards the Gamekeeper's hut. He only just managed to regain his balance when Harry's hand, still warm despite the freezing air that filled the grounds and holding fast onto his, pulled him along as the excited Gryffindor turned to look at him with a happy grin.  
  
"For Merlin's sake, Potter, would you slow down?" Draco huffed, but the bright smile on Harry's face was infectous, and Draco could feel his own mouth twitching as Harry ignored him. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"  
  
"It's a surprise," Was all Harry was willing to say, and still grumbling under his breath about demanding boyfriend, Draco resigned himself to a mystery trip through Hogwarts' grounds.  
  
Despite the school being exceptionally full for the Christmas holiday due to the ball that was planned as part of the triwizard tournament celebrations, the outside of the castle was oddly empty. Draco could understand why. While the smooth snow and gleaming lights and Christmas decorations that were littering the entire castle and turning it into a beautiful winter wonderland were enchantingly appealing, the freezing cold and biting winds were enough to keep most people inside.  
  
Draco shivered. Oh, how he wished he could still be inside.  
  
"Ta-da!" Harry's proud exclaimation and the fact that they'd stopped walking while Draco was busy pitying himself tore him out of his thoughts and he looked up from their joined hands, blinking at the white-spotted trees that surrounded them.  
  
"Potter," Draco said slowly. "Are we in the forbidden forest?"  
  
Harry's sheepish, slightly guilty grin told him the answer.  
  
"Are you mad?" Draco demanded. "Do you have any idea what sort of things live in here? Have you bloody forgotten the last time-"  
  
"Draco, relax!" Harry laughed, cutting him off. "We are not that far in, just the fringes. In any case, I brought you here to see something." He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small brown pouch. Draco eyed him curiously.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"My surprise," Harry smiled, tugging him gently. "It's supposed to be here somewhere, we just have to be quiet... there!"  
  
Draco's eyes followed his boyfriend's line of sight, slowly widening in surprise, lips parting with a whooshing breath. Right there, in a wooden enclosure so shabby it could only still be standing by magic, were the largest reindeers Draco has ever seen.  
  
Taller than a grown man and as fluffy as a sheep, the animals stood in a small herd, huddled together for warmth. Draco took a step forwards as Harry rummaged through his pouch, taking out a bunch of mushrooms and holding out his palm.  
  
"Where did you get that?" Draco asked curiously, watching as a young one, still hesitant and awkward on his feet and not as large as the rest of the reindeers broke away from his herd, carefully approaching the spot the two of them stood at.  
  
"The kitchens." Harry said, grinning as the young buck sniffed his hand and picked out a single mushroom with his long tongue. "Hagrid showed them to me last week. He said they were here for the Yule Ball. Dumbledore apparently came up with the idea of _'romantic sled rides across the grounds'_." He quoted, but the way he looked at Draco was everything but cynical.  
  
Biting his lips, Draco looked at Harry carefully. He knew what the hopeful look in his eyes meant, and he knew what Harry wanted. Deep inside, Draco knew he wanted the same.  
  
"You want to come out at the Yule Ball?"  
  
Harry wiped his hand on his winter cloak, moving away from the pen. He reached out to grab Draco's hand again, his fingers playing with a loose string on his boyfriend's wool gloves. "Yeah," he said slowly, his cheeks tinted with pink Draco knew wasn't from the cold. "I'm tired of hiding, I'm tired of sneaking around and stealing kisses so nobody sees. I want everyone to know and to be able to hold hands with you and kiss you whenever I want. I just want... well, you."  
  
"Potter, you are such a bloody sap," Draco whispered, pulling on Harry's hand to close the distance between them. "No idea why, but I still like you."  
  
"Does that mean you will ride with me?" Harry asked hopefully.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so." Draco smiled, leaning forwards to rub his nose against Harry's. "Even though Skeeter would have a stroke, and I should probably expect a howler from my father... I do. I think it'd be really nice to be able to kiss you all the time."  
  
The smile Harry gave him was blinding.  
  
"Well, in that case," Harry murmured, his breath white but warm against Draco's lips. "We should probably practice."


	11. Fire

Sighing in resignation, Harry tightened the blanket around his shoulders and shuffled towards the depressing drawing room of no.12 Grimmauld Place, a steaming mug of hot cocoa cupped in his hand.  
  
It's been two years since Harry had finally moved into his godfather's old house, after having worked very hard on making it inhabitable again and getting rid of the many dark artifacts that littered the house, surprisingly, with Kreacher's help. The war and the destruction of Regulus Black's horcrux had mellowed the old house elf, and although he was by no means a cheerful little companion like Dobby used to be, he became much more accepting of Harry and his makeshift family, and has proved himself helpful enough that Harry didn't mind his presence anymore.  
  
And yet, despite their best efforts to get rid of the darkness in that house, there was still a certain gloom that clung to the very walls that Harry couldn't get rid of. Perhaps it was the fact that there were no living beings in the house but Harry and Kreacher - Harry still couldn't bring himself to get a new familiar after Hedwig - but there was something about the lavish, large space that was all his that made Harry feel lonelier than he'd ever been.  
  
No, scratch that. _Today_ was the loneliest Harry had ever felt. Today was Christmas, and while Harry would usually spend it with Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys, he couldn't this year. Ron and Hermione were still on their honeymoon, and while Molly did invite Harry to join them in Romania to visit Charlie, Harry politely declined, feeling very uncomfortable and out of place to join the family without Ron there to act as a buffer, especially after he and Ginny had broken up. Things at the Burrow has never been the same since Fred died.  
  
Harry flopped onto his sofa with a sigh, shivering as he wrapped himself in the blanket like a burrito. A small flick of his wand had the fireplace burst into life, filling the bleak drawing room with light and warmth that his pitiful Christmas tree could not. Stretching his sock-clad feet up on the table in front of him to warm in front of the fire, he took a sip from his mug, closing his eyes as he let the hot, sweet drink fill him with what he could only call a substitute for human contact.  
  
He didn't even manage to fully absorb himself in self-pity when his fireplace suddenly roared to life, flashing green as the flames shot up and spat a very disgruntled... Malfoy?  
  
His dress robes were covered in soot and his usually perfectly styled hair was in disarray as the tall, blond young man stumbled out of Harry's fireplace and dusted himself off, all the while muttering to himself and ignoring Harry, who was sitting there with his mouth open and his hot cocoa threatening to spill from his loosely held cup.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
Draco finally looked up, his lips pressed together in displeasure as he waved his wand over himself one last time. He scowled, crossing the room in a few brisk steps and dropping onto the sofa beside Harry with an annoyed grunt.  
  
"Draco...?" Harry tried again, still staring dumbly as the man he'd only recently started calling a friend made himself comfortable on Harry's couch, snagging a corner of Harry's blanket to himself.  
  
"Oh. Right." Draco said as if in an afterthought. "I forgot to ask. Is it alright if I crash here for a few nights?"  
  
"What? Why?" Harry squeaked, hastily clearing his throat to cover the embarrassing, panicked noise.  
  
"My parents." Draco sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as he pulled a bit more of Harry's blanket and draped it over his lap. "I only just escaped their dooming clutch. I am lucky to be alive."  
  
Harry snorted into his mug of hot cocoa, his heartbeat calming down now that he's somewhat gotten used to Draco Malfoy's presence in his house. "What happened?" He asked, trying to ignore the way Draco's fine hair tickled his ear as the blond leaned against him with another sigh.  
  
"They tried - for the hundredth time - to introduce me to another pureblood girl from a _nice, respectable family_ ," he said in a mocking voice that Harry could only imagine was supposed to belong to Lucius. "They just don't get it."  
  
"Did you tell them you l-like boys?" Harry cursed himself for stuttering, and hoped Draco didn't notice. Fortunately, Draco was so busy being offended he didn't see the pink that stained Harry's cheeks.  
  
"Of course I did." He replied indignantly. "It doesn't matter to father, though. Mother is better about this than him, she's already accepted it by the time I turned fifteen. But father still believes in traditions."  
  
"Well, if anyone can knock some sense into your father, it's her."  
  
Draco nodded, the movement of his hair making Harry's nose twitch. "That's what I'm counting on." He agreed, snuggling closer to Harry, chasing away the cold. "So, can I stay here for a couple of days?" He asked quietly, looking up at Harry through dark blond lashes, looking hesitant for the first time since his sudden, bold arrival. "I'm not interrupting you in the middle of any holiday celebrations with the redhead clan, am I?"  
  
Harry shook his head, quickly taking a sip of his hot cocoa to hide the smile he found he couldn't fight off. Draco was bold, entitled and so self-centered it still more often than not drove Harry up a wall... but for some reason, Draco, with his haughty presence and his polished shoes and his demanding air made the gloomy no.12 Grimmauld Place look just a little bit warmer, and Harry couldn't help but think that maybe, even though his entire makeshift little family was elsewhere... this Christmas wouldn't be so bad, after all.  
  
"It's alright," Harry said, letting his cheek rest against Draco's fine hair as he pulled the blanket over them both, closing his eyes contently. "You can stay."


	12. Snowman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think I'm funny.

Harry Potter was having a very unusual day.  
  
It had started when he first left the Ministry at the end of his shift. With the holidays coming up, the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes was flooded with people coming in with pranks gone wrong and cursed Christmas trees, and Harry was exhausted. Mrs. Gelfman was back again with another cursed necklace, this time one that made the wearer burst into Christmas carols, and Harry had to spend over three hours trying to get her to stop singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen".  
  
Wrapping his cloak tighter around him, Harry stepped outside into the freezing afternoon, shivering a little at the cold breeze. He nodded his goodbyes to some people he knew from the DMLE, and looked around, frowning at the snowman that stood at the bottom of the outer grand staircase, surrounded by piles of snow.  
  
Odd.  
  
Shrugging, Harry dismissed the curiously-placed snowman as an overenthusiasm of some of the more whimsical employees. It wasn't too odd to see the occasional over-festive charm blow through the different offices in someone's attempts to spread the Christmas spirit.  
  
Harry puffed out a white breath, shaking his head. He wriggled his fingers in his cloak pocket, mentally counting the coins he had there, both muggle and wizarding. Draco had finished the last of their milk that morning, he thought, and they could definitely use some more shampoo and lotion... and Harry knew that the little shop three streets down sold Draco's favorite brand of chocolate, which would be nice to surprise his boyfriend with, later.  
  
His mind made up, Harry made his way quickly across the busy street, passing a few more acquaintances he knew from the Ministry, and some he didn't but were still easy to spot, as wizards were still rubbish at blending in with muggles. He grinned at one elderly wizard who'd passed him by, wearing a floral apron over a navy blazer and a pair of striped pajama pants, and then paused.  
  
There, at the turn of the street, stood a lone snowman.  
  
"What the..." Harry muttered to himself, marching over with purpose until he stopped in front of the snowman, frowning. He stared at it, inspected it, even touched it. It was cold, somewhat hard and definitely snow, with its beady black eyes staring at him blankly over a long carrot nose. There wasn't anything abnormal about it, aside from the fact that it seemed to follow Harry. The possibility of a prank had crossed his mind, but no one he knew would do something like this. Ron was currently away on a ski vacation with Hermione in Sweden, and George... after the war, George wasn't up for as many pranks as he used to.  
  
Maybe Ginny?  
  
Frown deepening, Harry gave the snowman one more look, hesitantly stepping away from it as he found his way back to the road.  
  
Quickly finishing his impromptu shopping trip and putting his purchases into a bag with the extra box of chocolates - "For that blond boy of yours," Mr. Greenwell said with a wink as he shoved the second box into Harry's hands with a shake of his head at Harry's flustered attempt to pay - he thanked the old shop owner once more and stepped back into the cold December afternoon.  
  
The street outside the shop was nearly empty, as opposed to the square surrounding the front of the Ministry - disguised as an old constructions site promising to open soon - and was perfect for a small, hidden apparition point just farther down the street, which was where Harry was headed before he had to pause again.  
  
"You gotta be joking."  
  
There, at the end of the street, inside one of the old, abandoned phoneboxes, was a snowman.  
  
Now thoroughly annoyed and definitely suspicious, Harry stomped towards the red phonebox, his hand on his wand. He glared at the still snowman, inspecting the side of the box with narrowed eyes.  
  
"What the bloody hell is this." He growled, his temper hanging by a thread at the empty black eyes that stared back.  
  
And then, the snowman giggled.  
  
Harry froze. Only years of training stopped him from showing any sign or giving any indication that he'd heard the giggle, but the hand gripping his wand tightened, and then relaxed.  
  
He knew that giggle.  
  
Putting everything he had into the effort of keeping his frown intact, he straightened up, pointing his wand at the snowman.  
  
"Whoever is doing this, I swear I'll find out." He threatened darkly, and then swiftly turned around and strode away towards the apparition point, all the while fighting off a smile.  
  


* * *

  
"You wouldn't believe what happened to me today."  
  
Harry huffed in mock annoyance, disguising his twitching smile by shrugging off his cloak and hanging it by the door. By the time he turned to look at Draco, his face was a perfect mask of irritation. He stomped over to where his boyfriend was sitting curled up on the couch, looking far too innocent with his potions magazine spread on his knees. Draco only managed to pull the magazine away before a dark-haired head flopped into his lap with a long-suffering groan, and now it was Draco's turn to fight off a grin.  
  
"Oh?" He murmured in interest, running his fingers through the dark curls. "Do you want to tell me about it?"  
  
Squashing the triumphant flip of his stomach, Harry began the tale of his extremely bizzare day, pretending to ignore the gleeful shine in Draco's eyes or the tremble of his belly that was pressed against Harry's head. When Harry reached to part of the snowman in the phonebox, and how he had threatened it, Draco couldn't hold back any longer, and burst into laughter.  
  
"It was me, Potter! I can't believe I got you! Finally, sweet revenge," He laughed, full and rich and _beautiful_.

Draco had always been careful with his smiles, his laughter and his joy. Always guarded. And yet the sound that filled Harry's ears in that moment was so carefree and open, Harry couldn't look away, his eyes shining in awe and his lips stretching into a smile of his own.  
  
He didn't have the heart to tell him he knew it was his giggle all along.


	13. Glass Deer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Glass Dragon.

The soft light of a pale Christmas dawn filtering through the gaps in the curtains was what woke Harry up.  
  
He opened his eyes for a brief moment before shutting them again, sighing in discontentment as he burrowed closer to his still sleeping boyfriend. He yawned into Draco's shoulder, raising a lazy hand to rub the sleep from his eyes before looking up, a slow smile stretching his dry lips, tongue darting out to wet them before another yawn cracked his jaw. Draco's usually guarded, closed expression has softened his features into a slack, worry-free mask in his sleep, and Harry loved those short moments alone right before the sun came up, where he could wake before Draco and drink in the relaxed face he only rarely saw outside of early mornings.  
  
Running a gentle finger over Draco's lax jaw, Harry blinked slowly, rolling onto his back and stretching carefully, not wanting to wake Draco and rob himself of those few precious moments. He yawned again, his gaze landing on the small glass dragon that was resting curled up on Draco's nightstand, it's tiny body rising and falling with fake breaths as it slept.  
  
The smile slid from Harry's face as he watched the sleeping dragon, memories of last night trickling back into his mind. He thought about what Draco had shared with him on Christmas Eve, couldn't actually fall asleep for a while from thinking about it. It had taken a lot for Draco to open up to him, and Harry felt both honoured and guilty. They've been together for almost two years, and Harry knew that the secret pains and past trauma they were both keeping under a tight lid were affecting their intimacy. Communication and sharing were never their strong suit, but Harry knew this had to change.

Harry's thoughts wandered to the plain silver ring that was resting in a tiny box at the bottom of his drawer. It wasn't the most expensive or the most fancy one in the store, but the delicate scaly pattern that ran along the rims and the green-ish shine the silver had when light hit it caught Harry's eye, and he knew this ring had to be Draco's. He'd bought it a while ago, but couldn't muster enough courage to ask yet. Not when Draco still didn't know the things he was hiding.  
  
Last night had been his chance, he thought bitterly, disappointed with himself. He could have just told Draco then, and then the worst part of himself would have been exposed, and Draco would accept him anyway as Harry knew he would, and they could finally move on.  
  
"Stop thinking too loud." The hoarse, sleepy voice tore Harry from his thoughts, and Harry jumped, blinking away the melancholic fog in his mind as his gaze focused on Draco's face, green eyes meeting steady grey.  
  
"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Harry murmured, reaching up to stroke a lazy thumb over his boyfriend's cheek. Draco didn't look away, keeping eye contact as he watched Harry carefully.  
  
"What were you thinking so hard about?" He asked quietly, turning onto his side and grabbing Harry's hand to bring it to rest over the pillow, covered with his own warm hand. Harry's gaze flickered over to the glass dragon that was still sleeping on his nightstand, looking hesitant as his lower lip was dangerously close to becoming a chew toy, and Draco squeezed his hand for a brief moment, encouraging. "Harry?"  
  
"I was thinking about what you told me last night," He finally murmured, feeling Draco tense beside him. "And... I want to tell you something about me, too."  
  
"Harry," Draco began. "You don't have to feel obligated just because-"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I want to." He said, letting his thumb stroke Draco's palm. "I've wanted to for a while now, but I've been too much of a coward to do so."  
  
"You're not a-"  
  
"I grew up in a cupboard." He said quietly, and Draco closed his mouth with a snap. "Under the stairs. My aunt and uncle were afraid of magic. Hated it, in fact. So they also hated me. They tried to beat it out of me, and made me live in that tiny cupboard, often locking me up for days without food or bathroom breaks as a punishment." He could audibly hear Draco swallow hard beside him, and appreciated that he didn't say a word, letting Harry get all of it out. "For most of my childhood, I thought this was normal. Freaks don't deserve food or freedom or friends. It'd taken me years to stop believing that. Sometimes, when we fight or when I mess up, I still look at the cupboard we have under the stairs here and think I should go in there to punish myself." He paused, eyes flicking down to where Draco's hand had his own in a death grip, and smiled sadly. "Don't worry. I won't do that. I know now that this isn't normal. I just wanted to tell you about it, so you'd know who I am. I don't want to hide from you anymore."  
  
There were tears in Draco's eyes as he leaned in to kiss away the ones that slipped out of Harry's. He didn't say a word.  
  
The next day, though, when Harry came home, he found that the door of the cupboard under the stairs of no.12 Grimmauld Place was gone, and on the single shelf inside rested Draco's gift dragon, curled around a small, glass deer.


	14. Boat Ride

"Muggle London really is beautiful." Draco said, looking up at the enormous tree that stood at the center of Trafalgar Square, his grey eyes shining with the lights of the decorated tree.

"Yeah, it is." Harry mumbled distractedly, but his eyes were focused nowhere near the tree. Instead, he was too busy staring at the young man beside him., with his grey eyes twinkling with such childish wonder Harry'd never seen on him before, and with the stray strands of blond hair that no matter how carefully Draco'd tried to put on his wool hat to not mess them up, still escaped and got in his face. Pale cheeks were flushed rosy from the cold, and the white breath that escaped from between his parted lips made Harry want to lean in and kiss him right there in the middle of the square.

He barely even noticed that Draco's attention shifted from the tree back to him, but he did notice the way those silvery-grey eyes widened just a bit when Draco realized Harry was staring at him all along, and the flush on his cheeks deepened.

"Sap." he huffed in embarrassment, shoving lightly on his boyfriend's shoulder. Harry grinned.

"You have no clue, yet." He said, sneaking a gloved hand into Draco's. "Come, I have a surprise for you."

* * *

"A boat ride? That's too corny even for you, Potter."

"Shut up, you love this."

Draco indeed loved it. After apparating both of them out of the square, hidden in a small street corner to avoid being seen by the many muggles that flooded the area, Harry had dragged Draco towards the boats at the edge of the Thames, where they could have the best seats to watch the fireworks he knew were coming. It's been a nice surprise, and Draco loved when Harry was letting himself be as romantic as he pleased.

For one, it wasn't every day that Harry had allowed himself to be so open about their love and his feelings, especially in public, both for his reluctance to provide gossip material for those who still insisted on following The-Boy-Who-Lived, and also for his persistent insecurity about how well his affections will be received. Draco knew it had nothing to do with himself and his place in their relationship, but rather with the way Harry had to grow up, so he took what he could get and cherished every small gesture, treating it like the treasure that it was.

And second... Draco really loved being pampered.


	15. Gifts

Harry was in the kitchen when the fireplace blazed to life with green flames.  
  
Draco had jumped out of his skin, nearly spilling the half-empty cup of hot tea he was holding. Cursing to himself quietly, he placed in on the coffee table and got up to answer the floo call, fully intending to give whoever it was an earful for disturbing them on Christmas Eve of all times.  
  
"Yes?" He answered with a sharp, clearly displeased tone.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, good evening." Madame Malone, the Ministry representative in charge of their case, said apologetically, and Draco felt his annoyance instantly replaced with jittery anticipation. His hands started shaking. _Could it really be...?_ "Very sorry for the inconvenient time, but I thought you'd like to know immediately." Madame Malone continued, taking Draco's tense and simmering silence as an encouragement. "As of an hour ago, your papers have been officially approved. I can send them to you right now, if you wish?"  
  
Draco's heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to explode out of his chest in excitement. Harry would _flip!_ Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he made himself calm down, forcing his face into a more proper expression than that of a giddy child on Christmas morning. "Yes, please," he breathlessly said, and couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Thank you, Madame." He said earnestly, reaching out for the thick roll of parchment that was being passed through the fire. "I cannot express my gratitude. You have no idea what this means for us."  
  
"There's no need to thank me, Mr. Malfoy." Madame Malone smiled warmly, waving her hand in dismissal. "It was my pleasure." And with that, the call ended.  
  
There was a loud noise of a few pots and pans dropping to the floor coming from the kitchen, accompanied by a hasty call of, "I'm okay!" And Draco snorted, knowing exactly what kind of state the kitchen and his husband would be in if he were to go check on them. As it were, he was in luck for the distraction it provided for his husband. He looked down at the papers in his hands, his gaze softening. He couldn't wait to show Harry this, and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from bursting into the kitchen to wave them excitedly in front of his husband's face.  
  
No. He had a better idea.

* * *

  
"Open this one next." Draco said, handing Harry a thin, square box wrapped in a plain, gold paper. There was no name on it, nor card, and it seemed to be wrapped in a haste, looking less sharp and proper than the rest of the boxes under the tree. Frankly, it seemed like a gift Harry would have wrapped. But not Draco, no. His husband was too fussy to hand over something that looked anything less than perfect. Something was definitely up, and Harry gave his husband a suspicious look as he took the box from him.  
  
"What are you planning?" He straight out asked. He knew his husband well enough to recognize the sly scheming even in his most innocent looks. Draco instantly let the wide-eyed mask drop like water sliding off glass, smirking like a cat as he gestured to the box Harry held.  
  
"Open it." Was all he said.  
  
Harry gave him a long stare, as if promising retaliation if this turned out to be some kind of a prank, then lowered his gaze to the golden box in his lap, peeling the wrapping paper carefully with hesitant fingers as Draco watched impatiently.  
  
The cover removed, Harry stared at the papers resting innocently inside the box, unblinking.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Looking up, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief, Harry stared at him, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before swallowing hard.  
  
"Is this real?"  
  
Draco grinned. "Yes."  
  
"So that means...?"  
  
"That we can go pick our new daughter up for our first Christmas together? Also yes. Merry Christmas, Harry."


	16. Cookies

Every Christmas is the same in Grimmauld Place. It's a tradition. One that they made all on their own, creating a new legacy and new meanings for a holiday that never brought them joy before.  
  
It had originally been Draco's idea, upon learning how lacking all of Harry's previous Christmases were. He wanted Harry to feel and know what the holiday should truly be like, drawing from his own experiences and memories as a very young child, before etiquette and decorum replaced innocence and wonder.  
  
Like everyone else, they had a tree, gifts, and a fancy dinner with everyone they considered family. Pansy learned to tolerate Ron, and Blaise, Theo and Hermione found a common interest in the history of the Wizarding world. They drank hot, home made cider, and cuddled together in warm socks in front of a roaring fireplace for an evening of games and festive music.  
  
Unlike everyone else - or at least, no one Harry had known personally - in the days before Christmas they had developed a tradition of their own.  
  
It had started after the trials were officially over and the second war became a part of history classes. Teddy was already turning four when Harry started thinking about the other orphans of war, like Teddy and himself, and wondered if there was even an orphanage for wizarding children and squibs. He shared his thoughts with Draco one night, after dropping Teddy off back at Andromeda's, and it was Draco who was able to tell him about Madam Modron's House for Magical Minors.  
  
A short visit the next day proved to Harry once again that magic could not fix everything. Just like many other muggle orphanages, Madam Modron's House was suffering from shortage of space, staff and funds. Christmas there was nothing more than a pitiful tree and some music, and Harry had left there feeling every bit the orphan he himself was.  
  
The next day, however, Harry came back to a house that looked like it had been under attack. Leftover wrapping paper littered the floor of the living room, covering every spot that wasn't piled with small, brightly-wrapped boxes.  
  
"What the-"  
  
A sudden, delighted shriek made Harry jump, and his head whipped towards the source of noise that sounded suspiciously like his godson, coming from the kitchen. _His_ kitchen.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
The kitchen was a mess. Pans, pots and stirring bowls were piled in the sink, trays of cooling pastries were lined on the counter, and flour was covering everywhere else. In the middle of it all, stood Draco and Teddy - the latter on a stool - both covered in flour and bits of raw dough.  
  
"Harry look, we're baking!"  
  
Harry carefully stepped into what could only be classified as a war zone, trying not to step on anything sticky as he approached the table to peer at what his two boys were doing. He reached out to ruffle Teddy's hair, sending a small cloud of flour into the air. "Yeah, I see that. I have so many questions." He said, raising an inquiring eyebrow at his boyfriend.  
  
"Remember that orphanage we went to yesterday?" Draco asked.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Well-" he spread his hands to gesture about the room, a rare, proud grin that Harry could never see enough of stretching his lips.  
  
Harry's eyes widened and his lips parted as realization dawned on him, his chest feeling a little tight all of a sudden. "Really?" He whispered, taking in the cooling trays of cookies and the half filled boxes that rested next to them. He thought about the countless little gifts in the living room, and suddenly there was a burning in his eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke that started rising from the oven.  
  
He watched as Draco darted in with a cry of dismay to try and save the batch that was already doomed, smiling softly at Teddy's impish laughter and thinking that maybe being an orphan didn't mean he couldn't have the best family he could ever ask for.  
  
Maybe they could make their own traditions.


	17. Elves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -and other euphemisms for male genitalia.
> 
> Just two idiotic, horny teenage boys. Nothing explicit or even beyond innuendos because, ew.
> 
> Also, we are completely ignoring Harry's Christmas meltdown and the attack on Mr. Weasley in OotP. Maybe because with Draco on their side Harry actually learns to occlude, or whatnot. Anyway, this is fanfiction, I can do what I want.
> 
> My longest author note yet. Amazing.

"Don't scream, it's me."  
  
The hand over his mouth was the only thing that stopped Draco from letting out a terrified, very undignified shriek, his grey eyes blowing wide in panic.  
  
"When I said, _'Don't scream'_ , it seems I was just wasting my breath, huh?" Harry snickered quietly, pulling his invisibility cloak off his head to reveal a messy, dark bird nest and two shining green eyes that were twinkling in amusement behind his glasses.  
  
Draco sat up, his glare somewhat ruined by the still slightly spooked look on his face as he shoved at his boyfriend, nearly pushing him off the edge of his bed. "Get stuffed, Potter." He hissed, getting even more annoyed by the pleased grin that stretched Harry's face. "You scared the crap out of me."  
  
Harry snorted. "I know." He snickered. "It was so worth it. Keep it quiet though, we don't want to wake the rest of your esteemed Inquisitorial Squad."  
  
At that, Draco glanced around, noting that the only fifth year Slytherins that stayed for Christmas - Crabbe and Goyle - were still sound asleep, snoring away as they slept off the feast from last night. Hiding a jaw-cracking yawn behind the back of his hand, he pushed himself farther up the bed to lean back against the headboard, giving the space beside him a pointed glance before looking back at Harry's still mostly-invisible body. Harry took the hint, quickly pulling the rest of his cloak off and scrambling to get on the bed beside his boyfriend. Draco flicked his wand, drawing the bed curtains closed around them and casting a quick silencing charm.  
  
"So... what are you doing here, other than raising my blood pressure?" Draco asked, a ghost of a sneer on his lips. Harry nudged him in response, trying to pinch his hip but Draco's quick reflexes batted his hand away, making Harry choke down a laugh.  
  
"Just wanted to spend Christmas morning with my boyfriend." He eventually shrugged, giving up on his aborted attempts to mess with the other boy. "And to give you your present."  
  
"Is that a code for sex?"  
  
"You wish."  
  
"Oh, I don't have to." Draco smirked, and the heated look he was giving Harry made the shorter boy pause, his ears burning as he stared into dark grey eyes.  
  
"W-well," Harry stummered. "Anyway, I brought all my presents, you know, so- so we could open them together?"  
  
"You're cute when you blush."  
  
"...Draco!"  
  
"Alright, alright," Draco grinned, quite pleased with himself for getting his boyfriend back for waking him up with a heart attack. "Let's open presents, shall we? I'm sure there's nothing, er, embarrassing in there." He drawled. Harry eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"What did you do?" He asked slowly, his hand hovering over the small, square green box that was placed on his lap, the tag that was attached to it making it clear who it was from. Draco widened his eyes and stuck his lips out in mock innocence, and Harry's eyes only narrowed further.  
  
"I'm hurt, Potter." Draco placed a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically. "Utterly _hurt_."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up." He said, but the corner of his lips was twitching.  
  
"I will, if you open it."  
  
"Alright." Harry conceded. "But if anything jumps at me or bites me or-"  
  
"Just open it!"  
  
Slowly, with careful fingers and watchful eyes, Harry tore at the green wrapping paper and tossed it aside at his boyfriend, who stayed suspiciously silent and didn't even complain once about the mess Harry was making of his bed. Lifting the lid, Harry peeked inside, and paled.  
  
"What. Is. That."  
  
Draco couldn't take it any longer. He burst into laughter, leaning against his boyfriend as he clutched his side, thankful for the silencing charm. The disgusted look on Harry's face made him fall into another fit of giggles, and he wiped his eyes as Harry reached into the box and pulled out his gift.  
  
"I hate you, Malfoy." He announced, his green eyes blazing as he threw it at Draco's face.  
  
"So worth it," Draco gasped, picking up the stretchy little piece of fabric that slipped into his lap, spreading it wide in front of their faces, much to Harry's distaste.  
  
In his hands, he held a festively green thong, complete with a fancy print of the words, _"When I think of you, I touch my elf"_.  
  
"After this, I'm going to make you _beg_ to touch _my_ elf." Harry growled, his green eyes lighting up with fire as he pounced on his boyfriend.  
  
Draco squeaked.


	18. Lazy

The book closed with a snap.

Turning onto his back on the large sofa in the dimly lit sitting room, Harry let out a long, bored breath, lazily watching it ruffle the strands of messy black hair that fell in front of his eyes. His arm dropped to the side, the book he'd just got from Hermione for Christmas nearly slipping out of his loose grasp as he groaned quietly to himself.

He turned back onto his side, pulling his knees up to his chest. Green eyes wandered up from watching the dancing flames in the fireplace towards the flickering soft light that came from the study down the hall. The heavy oak door was slightly ajar, and if Harry squinted really hard, he could see Draco's foot tapping against the corner of the couch there, the wool quilt that covered his lap slipping off the edge.

Harry was bored, and Draco wasn't helping.

"Malfoy," He called, drawing the name in a long whine, then paused to listen. There was no reply, but Harry knew there wouldn't be one. Draco was currently working on a very long order for his potions shop in Diagon Alley, and has been at it since the early afternoon, leaving Harry to entertain himself the entire evening. "Draco, I'm bored." He tried again, pouting.

"Go run laps around the house." Came the dry reply, and Harry's pout deepened, his knees pulling higher, closer to his chest.

"Don't wanna," he complained. "It's cold outside."

Draco didn't even dignify that with an answer. It wasn't often that Harry acted so childishly, but when he did, he was extremely irritating. _"Lacking the right skills for the art of dramatic flare,"_ Draco used to say in that haughty tone of his, flicking Harry's nose as a punishment for trying to act cute.

Finally letting the book fall to the carpeted floor with a soft _thud_ , Harry rolled over, pushing himself to the edge of the sofa until he too dropped to the floor with a displeased grunt. His hand felt around for the coffee table, and he used it as a leverage to pull himself up. Smoothing down his ruffled clothes, Harry stretched his arms over his head, wincing as his spine cracked audibly. He sent another pouting glance towards the study, biting his lip.

"Pay attention to me." Draco suddenly felt arms wrapping around his neck from behind, making him jump and nearly spill the half-empty cup of cooling coffee that was balancing precariously on a wooden coaster in the corner of the couch he was currently curled up on.

"Potter," he hissed.

"Please?" Lips kissed the side of his neck, the arms that were wrapped around him sneaking lower to play with the collar of his shirt, one of them slipping inside, cold against his warm chest. "You've been locked in here for hours. You must have a headache and need a break, no?"

Draco huffed, putting down his quill. "Don't act as if your concern isn't completely selfish."

"Well, I do miss you." Harry whispered in his ear, the warm breath making Draco shiver. "I want to spend some Christmas time with my boyfriend and I can think of so many things we could do now instead of sitting here to write a boring report."

Draco turned a little in Harry's arm, enough so that he could rub his nose against his boyfriend's temple. "You make such a compelling argument, Potter." he mumbled, lifting a hand to cup the side of Harry's head.

"I know." Draco could feel Harry's lips smiling against his skin right before his arms released him from their hold and Harry back away from the couch, smirking at Draco's obvious disappointment. "If you come with me right now, I might do that thing you asked me to last night." He drawled in a tone that wouldn't shame Draco at his snootiest, his smirk turning darker and more suggestive as he took one step backwards towards the door.

Draco was out of his seat with a low growl before Harry could even pass through the door, potions report long forgotten.


	19. Sweet Tooth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna warn you about the angst and past-trauma references anymore. If you've made it this far, you already know I'm a shameless slut for bittersweet crap and hurt/comfort. And, if you really did make it this far - you are too.

"I don't understand why you insist on doing boring muggle stuff instead of having a normal, wizarding Christmas." Draco complained as he was dragged by his boyfriend towards the sweets shops that lined the left side of the festively lit street, crowded and full of mouthwatering smells that lured Harry towards them like a Siren's call.  
  
"Because," Harry said, in a tone that suggested this was far from the first time they'd had this sort of conversation. "You, my beloved pure-blooded snob, still need to broaden your views. Weren't you the one who said he wanted to learn more about the muggle world?"  
  
Draco scoffed. "Yes." He grunted in displeasure, turning his nose up at the crowded stands. "From a _book_. Not standing out here freezing my arse off."  
  
"Oh right, we wouldn't want anything to happen to your arse, now wouldn't we?" Harry shot back with a smirk, earning himself a smack to his own bottom and a heated glare. "Anyway," he laughed, tugging on Draco's hand that was still grasped in his to pull him closer as he resumed their walk. "There are many interesting things here that you're never going to learn from just reading a book. Experiencing things first hand will do both of us good."  
  
Draco slowed down to a halt, making Harry, who was still holding onto his hand, stop as well and turn to look at him questioningly.  
  
"You've never had any of this stuff before?" He frowned, gesturing at the countless stands around them that offered many various kinds of muggle street foods and sweets, the smells mixing together into a delicious aroma that would attract anyone within a reasonable distance.

Harry looked away. "No." He mumbled, so quiet Draco almost didn't catch it. "My relatives never let me."  
  
Draco stiffened. In an instance, his hand tightened around Harry's, grey eyes flashing with cold anger as he possessively pulled the shorter man closer to his side, as if to shield him from unseen enemy, arm wrapping around his shoulders in a death grip. Harry didn't say anything. It was by far a much better reaction than the first time Harry had shared his childhood with him, telling him about the cupboard and the starvation, the locks on his doors and the endless chores and even about the general hatred and humiliation he'd experienced at his relatives' house. He had to physically restrain Draco from grabbing his wand and apparating away to the once-again inhabited no.4 Privet Drive to release his wrath upon them, a few carefully chosen hex and curses already on his lips. He had made Draco calm down, and they had spent the entire night talking instead, as Draco held Harry close to his chest when everything got to be too much.

And when Harry finally fell asleep in his arm, his cheeks stained with dried tears, Draco cried, too.  
  
"Oh." Draco said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to loosen the tight hold he had on the man he loved. "Well then, I guess that means we are going to try everything this place has to offer." He took a deep, calming breath, and when he released it, the coldness in his eyes was replaced with loving warmth as he looked at Harry's face. "Come on, I'm paying." He announced, and with that he pulled Harry forwards, marching with purpose toward a stand that sold lollies in every colour of the rainbow and fluffy, bright pink candy floss, money already clutched in his hand.  
  
Later, with lips and fingers sticky from sugar and their bellies satisfied and full of greasy, cheap food, Harry leaned against his boyfriend on one of the benches in the park, smiling contently as he watched a group of children excitedly running towards their parents with arms loaded with sweets. He sighed, turning his head to bury his face in the fabric of Draco's coat, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and cologne, thinking of how lucky he was to have someone like Draco Malfoy in his life. His childhood may have been far from happy... but with Draco by his side, Harry knew he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath on his own.


	20. First Years

"First years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?"

His face breaking into a wide smile, eleven year old Harry Potter rushed towards his giant friend where the gamekeeper of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry stood at the edge of the platform, clad in his huge furry coat as he happily waved towards the crowd of young children that was slowly gathering around him.

"Hey, Hagrid!" Harry chirped excitedly, walking beside him as he began leading the awed, hesitant first years towards the lake, where small boats were waiting for the new students.

A large hand patted his head, making him stumble as he tried not to trip over the hem of his robes. "Heya Harry. How was yer first train ride, eh?"

"It was great!" Harry gushed, sticking a hand into his pocket to take out his new chocolate frog's Dumbledore card and show it to his large friend. "I've met a few other kids that were really nice, and they made me try some stuff from the trolly. Wizard food is weird." He chattered, not paying attention to the other kids as he tried to keep up with Hagrid's long strides.

"Just ya wait 'till the feast," Hagrid said. "It's somethin' else. Now, hurry up and get in a boat with yer friends, we need to get movin'." He nodded at Harry, who in turn spinned around to see the rest of his classmates were already in boats, four children in each one. His face fell when he saw Ron was already in a boat, along with the girl with the bushy hair and the nervous boy who'd lost a toad - joined by a tiny blond girl with pigtails. Catching his eye, Ron sent him an apologetic smile, shrugging as if to say, _"What was I supposed to do?"_ and Harry nodded at him in disappointment before turning to look for any other vacant spots.

_Oh, no._

It was as if fate was toying with him. Straightening up, Harry scowled, stomping his way to the only available spot in one of the boats to his left that he realized he would have to share with none other Draco Malfoy and his two bumbling followers. Harry huffed to himself. And here he thought his first day was going well.

"Potter." Malfoy said when Harry angrily climbed into the boat and flopped into the seat next to him at the front of the boat, ignoring the other boy completely as while Malfoy's friends - Crabbe and Goyle, Harry recalled their names were - scooched away into the backseat, talking - _grunting_ \- amongst themselves. Harry's scowl deepened, and he turned as much as he could away from the other boy, sending longing glances towards the boat where Ron was sitting and chatting to the small pigtails girl. "Potter," Malfoy said again, more urgently this time.

"What." Harry turned around with a glower, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes burned holes into Malfoy's grey ones. The other boy flinched.

"I..." he started, but the intensity of Harry's glare was apparently too much for him to bear because he quickly averted his eyes, a sickly pink flush climbing up his neck to stain his pale cheeks, his hands twisting in the fabric of his wide uniform sleeves. "I, I wanted to say, um," He gulped, looking like he was two seconds from bolting from the boat straight into the freezing water. "I wanted to say... sorry." Malfoy whispered, his voice almost swallowed by the soft rustle of the gentle waves against the bottom of their boat. Harry's jaw dropped, and he stared at Malfoy in surprise, arms slowly falling away from their tight, crossed position over his chest. Whatever he'd expected Draco Malfoy to say, that was not it _at all_. Never in his life had a bully apologized to him before, and frankly, Harry didn't know how to react to that.

"What?" He blurted dumbly. Malfoy's eyes shot up to meet his, hesitation and embarrassment fighting each other inside those grey pools.

"I-I'm sorry," he said again, quickly, as if afraid he would lose his nerve if he waited any longer. "For saying those horrible things about your parents. I don't know why I said them. I didn't mean to. It's just that my father always says-" he stopped, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't matter what he says. I shouldn't have said it, and a proper Malfoy should always know when to apologize." He said, straightening up a little as he looked right into Harry's wide eyes. "So, I'm apologizing. I'm really sorry, Potter. I hope you can forgive me. Maybe... maybe even be friends?"

Harry stared at him, his eyes dropping to the outstretched hand that hovered between them, pale and skinny and trembling. With his lips nervously trapped between his teeth, the hesitant look in his eyes and with the embarrassed, sickly blush on his face, Draco Malfoy didn't look like much of a bully anymore, but a shy boy who'd actually reminded Harry a lot of himself.

With quite a shaky hand of his own, Harry grasped the offered palm, his lips twitching into an uncertain smile.

"Alright," he conceded slowly, but then his eyebrows drew together into a much weaker version of his scowl from before, and his grip on Malfoy's hand tightened. "But, if you're going to be my friend, you're going to have to apologize to Ron as well for the mean things you said, and I would ask him to do the same. I've never had any friends before, and Ron's been really nice to me. I'd love to have more friends, but I'm not going to abandon the ones I already have."

"Sure, yes, of course." Malfoy - Draco - nodded vigorously, squeezing Harry's hand tightly, as if afraid Harry would suddenly decide he wasn't worth the effort and let go. But Harry only grinned at him, happy to make a new friend so quickly when just that very morning he had none. Draco stared back at him, a small smile tugging on his own pale lips as well, and when Harry's smile widened at that, the blush on Draco's face deepened, and he quickly let go of his hand, looking away.  
Harry stared after him, a little confused at Draco's - who until just a few minutes ago he'd thought to be a cruel and arrogant bully - surprisingly shy behaviour, but still he was happy with how his first day as wizard has gone so far. He looked up at the approaching castle, grinning happily to himself at his gaze dropped back to stare at the black water underneath them, watching the small waves as they crashed against the wooden boat.

He was so lost in thoughts he almost didn't hear the small voice that whispered beside him.

"I've never had a friend before, too."


	21. Ornaments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be about 500 words I have no idea what happened.

"Harry, look what mother sent us!"  
  
The call that came from the kitchen was unusually excited, and Harry got up from where he was working on his latest report and stretched his stiff muscles, wincing as his spine popped. Not wanting to make Draco wait any longer and be on the receiving end of one of his boyfriend's excessive complaints - which were nearly always painfully fake and existed merely for the flare of drama the other adored so much - Harry quickly made his way towards towards the kitchen to see what Draco wanted.  
  
Two large eagle owls greeted him with polite, dignified hoots that could only belong to a Malfoy owl as he stepped through the door. He held out a hand to stroke the closest one's beak, his other hand reaching towards the jar on the counter where they kept owl treats, offering a handful to the two pleased birds. With two satisfied owls now nipping gently on his fingers in a way that achingly reminded him of how Hedwig used to do it, he turned his attention back to his impatient boyfriend and the large box he was tapping his fingers over.  
  
"You can cuddle with Taranis and Ceres later," Draco said, beckoning a hand towards Harry. "Come look what my mother sent us for Christmas."  
  
Opening the medium sized wooden box, Draco grinned as he pulled a beautiful, delicate chain made of gold and silver chain rings out of the mass of Christmas decorations that filled the box to the brim. The metal seemed to melt and slide from link to link in slow, gentle pulses, gold shifting into silver and back again. Harry reached out to touch it, a slow smile spreading on his face as he felt it pulse, like a heartbeat.  
  
"It's pretty," he said, smiling. "It's nice of your mom to send us stuff for our first Christmas here. I was about to go up to the attic and check if there are any traditional Black ornaments we could use, like pickled goblin heads or something."  
  
Draco snorted. "Well, now you won't have to. These are traditional _Malfoy_ decorations, I'm sure there are enough here to fill our little tree."  
  
"Hm." Harry hummed in agreement, pulling the box towards him to check the rest of their early present.  
  


* * *

  
Draco was in the shower.  
  
Finishing the last touches of their now fully decorated Christmas tree, Harry stepped back, standing in the middle of their sitting room with his hands on his hips as he admired their handiwork. The tree was truly magnificent with its branches groaning under the weight of chains of gold and silver, jade dragons and snakes made of crystals and rubies. There were fairy lights dancing over the green needle leaves, coming from countless of real, tiny fairy lanterns. It was magical.  
  
 _It's all very fancy,_ Harry thought to himself, the smile wavering on his lips until it slipped away completely, his arms falling from his waist in defeat. _And... very Malfoy._  
  
 _There's nothing of me in here._  
  
A thought that hovered in the back of his mind ever since the box came earlier that afternoon suddenly resurfaced, and Harry's green eyes wandered towards the stairs as his thoughts carried him back to the attic.  
  
The attic of no.12 Grimmauld Place was enormous, old and dusty. Harry and Draco didn't even manage to sort through half of it so far, even with Kreacher's help and despite the fact that they'd been living there together for nearly a year now. Harry knew the chances of him finding there anything Christmas-y and appropriate to use were slim, but he still wanted to try, if only for the tiniest chance he could discover something that he could claim as his own. He also knew that anything that belonged to the Black family would have a closer relation to Draco than himself, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. His parents' old house was in ruins, the vault he had inherited contained nothing more sentimental than a few trinkets that belonged to much older Potter generations, and he had no living relatives but the Dursleys - and he definitely didn't have any fond memories with _them_.  
  
Besides... Harry couldn't help but hoping to find something, anything, that might have perhaps belonged to Sirius. Even if it was just one, small thing, it would make all the difference in the world.  
  
Harry sneezed. The dust in the stuffy old attic was thick, and despite his best efforts at cleaning and air cleansing charms, the dust still found its way into his nostrils, causing him to fall into a fit of sneezes that left him teary-eyed and itchy. He banished a few moth-eaten cloaks that seemed like they would strangle him if he touched them to the back of the room, revealing a couple of boxes they haven't noticed yet on their occasional visits to the attic.  
  
Unlike most of the old Black family heirlooms and furnitures, the boxes Harry found seemed to be relatively new. Not much older than himself, actually. His eyes lighting up with hope at the promising sight, he summoned one towards him, examining it from all sides before casting a few quick _finite_ s and curse revealing charms to make sure nothing would attack him like last time, where a collection of cursed bells they found in one of the closets almost rendered him deaf if it wasn't for Draco's quick thinking. His ears still oozed blood for the rest of the week, though.  
  
The box, much to Harry's surprise, didn't have anything protecting it but a few simple preservation and privacy charms that Harry quickly disassembled with a few swift waves of his wand. Crossing his fingers and hoping there was anything worthwhile in there, he pulled off the lid, peering inside to see a mass of knick knacks and loose papers filling the box to the brim.  
  
Disappointed but not completely discouraged, Harry rummaged through the contents, lifting this item and that to examine it, ignoring the bottom where it was littered with old pieces of parchment and broken quills.  
  
That is, until he saw a flash of faded red.  
  
 _A... Gryffindor tie?_  
  
Harry's blood turned to ice. His heart seemed to beat both faster and slower at the same time, his breath felt like it was stuck inside his chest and wouldn't budge. Trembling fingers lifted the old red and gold tie, smoothing over the faded colours as if it was going to turn to dust in his hands at any moment.  
  
"Sirius," he whispered, his eyes burning.  
  
As if suddenly electrocuted, he dropped the tie back into the box as he dived in like a starved man, pulling out small satchels and bags, spilling the contents onto his shaking palms.  
  
A small, round disk made of clay, no larger than a tea saucer caught his attention as it fell out of a small, purple velvet pouch. It looked like it was clumsily painted in red and green, golden sprinkles drowning the colours in a truly hideous, blinding combination. But at the center of the disk was a palm print that made Harry's heart skip a beat. A palm print so small and chubby, it could only belong to one person in Sirius's life.  
  
Turning the disk it his hands, Harry felt a few tears slip down his cheeks, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the short, sweet message etched on the back.  
  
 _"To the bestest godfather in the whole world, I wish you a very merry Christmas. With all my love, your favorite godson, Harry."_  
  
Harry knew that handwriting. He knew it from a letter he'd found in this exact same house years ago, when he'd been just a kid fighting for his life. He's recognize that curled _g_ everywhere, as it was so similar to his own, once again thinking it felt like a little wave of _"hello!"_ from someone long gone.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Wiping his face hastily in his sleeve, Harry closed his palm over the small disk, turning around to see Draco carefully making his way towards him through the piles of old furniture and boxes, his blond hair still slightly damp from his shower and his face a mask of confusion.  
  
"Hey," Harry greeted, wincing at how thick his voice sounded. The frown on Draco's face deepened, grey eyes immediately on alert as they scanned Harry's face, with the drying tear tracks and red-rimmed eyes that couldn't be hidden behind his glasses.  
  
"Were you crying?" He asked sharply, his careful steps shifting into quick long strides until he stopped beside his boyfriend, sinking to his knees beside him without giving any mind to his clean clothes that were now stained with dust and grime. Harry simply shrugged, sniffling, knowing there was no point in hiding as he leaned a little sideways so he could press himself into the protective arm that wrapped itself around his shoulders. "What happened? What are you doing up here alone?" Draco asked in a hushed voice, his grip tightening around Harry.  
  
Another aborted shrug, and Harry's hand was lifted, palm opening to reveal the small disk with the tiny baby print on it.  
  
"I've found some of Sirius's stuff." He mumbled, and another tear slipped past his wet eyelashes. Draco's heart clenched.  
  
He took the offered piece of clay from Harry's still trembling palm, turning it in his hand to read the inscription on the back. His lips moved with the words, his eyes softening at the sight.  
  
"Oh." He breathed quietly, feeling Harry nodding against his shoulder.  
  
"I want to hang it." Harry whispered, shifting and turning in Draco's embrace until he could press his face against his neck, hiding the hot tears that he couldn't stop anymore in the fabric of Draco's shirt. "I don't have m-much from my m-mum, or Sirius, I just wanted... something. Of them. That tree had nothing of me in it, and I just wanted... I want this house to be a home for b-both of us." He said, pushing himself up a little so he could look into Draco's own wet eyes, his smile trembling as he again used his sleeve to wipe away his tears, then Draco's as well. "I want to make our future our own." He whispered.  
  
Draco nodded, his hand reaching up to wipe a new tear from the corner of Harry's eye.  
  
"Make it our own." He whispered back.


	22. Chance Encounters

_Cold,_ Harry thought, rubbing his gloved hands together before reaching to fasten the top button of his cloak, shivering at the burst of frosty breeze that ruffled his already messy hair. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the shrunken boxes of his latest purchases. With his Christmas shopping now out of the way, Harry's head was already in the clouds, thinking about hot cocoa and a warm fire to melt away the chill from his bones when he finally got home.

He was so lost in thoughts about warmth and dinner he didn't notice where he was going, and therefore could not stop himself in time to avoid a collision with someone's firm chest. He yelped, more in surprise than in pain, as he flailed and fell back onto his bottom with a humiliating _thud_.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, are you alr- Potter?"

Startled, Harry's eyes snapped up, widening just a little as he matched the voice - clear, velvety, and despite being a little flustered, still had it's familiar drawl - to a face he hadn't seen in years. Not since the trials.

"Malfoy?"

The blond looked just as surprised as he was, his grey eyes wide and staring at Harry in a strange mix of emotions he couldn't even begin to decipher. There was something raw in them, and Harry shifted uncomfortably on the ground, suddenly realizing he was still sitting there in the middle of the freezing, crowded street.

A hand was thrusted in front of his face, bare and pale and... shaking? Harry stared at it for a long moment, then looked back up to meet Draco Malfoy's eyes, the ones that were still full of something he couldn't recognize, and swallowed hard, unable to look into them any longer. His gaze fell back to the waiting hand, and in a split second he'd made a decision, grabbing it tightly with his own gloved one, and allowed Malfoy to pull him up to his feet.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, still a little embarrassed from the fall, still trying to look anywhere but Draco Malfoy's eyes.

"No problem," Malfoy whispered, and this time his voice - usually so sure and clear - sounded a little hoarse, making Harry's head snap up.

Now that he was really looking at him, he realized Draco Malfoy looked nothing like the boy he remembered from before the war. If anything, with the dark circles under his eyes, his paler-than-normal face, and his blond hair that was no longer as shiny as it used to be, he'd reminded Harry of what he looked like during their sixth year, when Malfoy had been constantly on edge and absolutely desperate to fullfill Voldemort's impossible tasks.

How many times had he wished he's acted differently back then?

How many times had he wished he'd put down his wand and offered a hand instead?

How many times had he thought about the scars he'd left on Malfoy's pale skin, the marks that would never fade, that would forever be there to remind them of foolish mistakes and despair?

Something inside Harry ached.

"H-how have you been?" Harry stummered, shaking the horrible thoughts off, taking note of how Malfoy's clothes, which once had fit him so well, hugging his body in ways that made Harry more often than not lose concentration in class, were now hanging over his much thinner frame, looking wrinkled and unkempt. "I-I heard your mother was..." he trailed off, wincing at his lack of tact. Narcissa Malfoy had been released from Azkaban a little over three months ago, two years after the end of her son's own sentence. "I mean-"

"It's alright," Malfoy said, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. He looked tired, Harry thought. "I know what you meant. We're alright. Mother is slowly adjusting, I help her. Thank you for asking." He said, and if Harry was not mistaken, there was a hint of sincere gratitude in his voice, and that weak smile suddenly grew into something a little brighter, making Harry's heart skip a beat.

"That's good." Harry breathed, shoving his hands back in his pockets to hide their fidgeting. He sneaked another glance at Malfoy, taking in his haggard looks. It's been years since he'd last seen him, getting only a few glances during the trials when he came to testify in Malfoy's favour - and his mother's. Back then he'd still been with Ginny, but it wasn't long after Draco Malfoy and both his parents were sent to Azkaban that they'd broken up. It wasn't as dramatic as some would think. They ended things very well, and remained friends still. It was just that Ginny had still wanted to taste everything life had to offer, still wanted adventures. And Harry... Harry just wanted to rest.

And from the looks of it, Malfoy wanted it, too.

"Hey, listen..." Harry started, looking up to meet Draco Malfoy's grey eyes, the eyes that were still fixed on him like he was the most important thing in the world, eyes that made something warm bubble inside his belly, that made his gut clench. He felt his ears getting warm, and he was glad he'd already started, because those eyes made his throat feel like it was closing, his courage fighting to run away. "I, I just finished my Christmas shopping, and-and I have some time... d-do you want to go somewhere for hot cocoa? W-with me?" He hurriedly added, hoping he sounded a little more confident than what his own ears heard.

Malfoy stared at him.

Harry shifted uncomfortabley, growing more and more nervous the longer the silence went on. That unexplainable something in Malfoy's eyes was so intense by the time Harry opened his mouth to say that nevermind, they didn't have to go anywhere together, but his jaw snapped shut at the slow smile that suddenly stretched Draco's lips, looking a little awkward and out of place on his sickly, exhausted face, but so, so bright.

Harry couldn't remember how to breathe.

"That sounds lovely." Draco said.

And as they walked together, side by side and chatting excitedly about everything that's happened since they'd last met, Harry took in the way Malfoy's steps became a little lighter. He smiled.

_Maybe this time, the marks I would leave on him... wouldn't be scars._


	23. Veela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is a bit of a stretch. The image prompt was like a sort of a light angel thingy hanging in the middle of the street. Idk I did my best ok.
> 
> At this point I don't even know what I'm doing.

"Have I ever told you I was part Veela?"

Harry stopped walking.

"Huh?" He asked dumbly, and if it wasn't for Draco's hand holding tight onto his, he surely would have tripped over his own feet as he stared at his smug boyfriend, ignoring the rest of the fairly busy street.

"Part Veela," Draco repeated slowly, grinning.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Draco nodded. "Mother's great-grandmother was one. It had caused quite the scandal when she married into the Black family, what with the blood-purity and all, so it's sort of a hushed story in our family." He shrugged.

"How come I've never felt anything about it from you?" Harry asked as they slowly resumed their walk, unconsciously moving a little closer to Draco, as if he was worried some of Draco's Veela skills would suddenly attract unwanted attention from bypassers.

He wasn't jeaslous. Not at all.

Draco looked offended. "What do you mean, you never felt anything?" He frowned. "I remember trying working some of it on you, back in our fifth year - and maybe part of our sixth, before, you know," he trailed off, not really wanting to remember what happened after.

"You did?" Harry asked incredulously, trying to recall anything out of the ordinary about his feelings for Draco from back then. "Why?"

Draco didn't reply. He didn't look at Harry, staring straight forwards, but Harry noticed how a soft pink flush was climbing up his neck from beneath his scarf, staining his pale cheeks. Harry had a feeling he knew what was making his boyfriend so embarassed, but he had to make sure, so he moved even closer and nudged his shoulder, smiling slyly. "Draco?" He drawled in a perfect imitation of his boyfriend.

"I-I was jealous, alright?" Draco huffed, his ears burning as he avoided Harry's gleeful eyes. "You were dating Chang, and then Weasley, and it was like you didn't even notice me no matter what I did. So I tried pulling some genetic charms to get you to at least _look_. You never did, though." He mumbled in disappointment.

Harry stared at him. His steps once again died into a halt, his hand that was still clasped in Draco's forcing the blond to pause as well. He turned to look at Harry who stood unmoving a little behind him, his outstretched hand twitching in his grasp, still embarrassed under Harry's scrutinizing gaze.

"Are you stupid?" Harry eventually asked, staring at his boyfriend with his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Huh?" It was now Draco's turn to be rendered speechless. Harry rolled his eyes, running a gloved palm over his face with a tired sigh.

"Draco," he said slowly, taking a step forwards to stress whatever he was about to say, closing the distance between them. "I was _obssessed_ with you in our sixth year," he said, taking another step. "And even before then, I've always, _always_ noticed you. Granted, I didn't know I was noticing you," he admitted, grinning sheepishly as he stood on his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend's still pink cheek. "It was Ron who'd apparently grown tired of my hopeless crush and begged me to shut up about it, when I finally realized what was happening." He snorted, watching a small, shy but very satisfied smile stretching Draco's lips at his words.

"Well, I'm glad you have, then." He murmured, pressing a kiss of his own onto Harry's mouth. "I like that you like me for me, and not just for my insanely good genes."

Breaking away from the kiss, Harry shoved at Draco's shoulder, laughing.


	24. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy implications of off screen child abuse, more so than in previous installments, so please take care.  
> Also, the longest oneshot in this entire work. Enjoy, and have a wonderful Christmas Eve.

Snow crunched under his feet as thirteen years old Draco Malfoy moved away from the main road and into the mass of half-naked trees that lined the edges, disappearing from view.

 _"Don't leave the property."_ His mother's voice echoed in his head, firm and commanding, but Draco only felt a second's guilt at disobeying his mother sneaking out of his great-aunt's manor before the guilt was replaced with a scowl, and he kicked a bit of snow in a fit as he glared at his now snow covered dragonhide boots.

 _Yeah, that didn't stop father from doing exactly that, and on Christmas._ Draco thought to himself bitterly.

So what of he wanted to go exploring a little on his own? It's been a long time since he'd last been to his great-aunt's manor - somewhere near Sutton, he knew, although no one had ever told him the exact location and he'd never been interested enough to ask - and now that he was old enough, he was going to do whatever he wanted. No matter what mother said. She was just being paranoid. It's not like Black had any interest in _him_. No, Black, like everyone else, was only interested in _Potter_.

Moving farther away from the main road, Draco made his way through the bare cluster of trees and into a more secluded area that he's never seen before. He could see long, looping line of train rails curling under the snow, and with nothing better to do, he decided to follow its trail until he felt like going back to his great-aunt's manor. He shuddered, thinking of his mother's reaction when she found out he'd left the house with a serial killer on the loose.

Perhaps he shouldn't hurry to come back, then.

His breath white and puffy in the cold air, Draco grinned to himself as he forced out deeper breaths, thinking that like that, he really looked like he was living up to his name. He leaped onto a small tunnel bridge, balancing himself on the thin train rail as he kept blowing out white breaths. He was so focused on his little game that he didn't notice the noise at first.

And when he did, he froze.

All of his previous playful attitude had vanished into thin air, his entire body going into a defensive mode at the wheezing sound he knee was coming from somewhere below him, echoing in the hollow, abandoned tunnel. He quickly pulled his wand from his pocket, shakily holding it in front of him. His heart was beating madly against his ribcage, mind reeling with insane thoughts of escaped convicts out to get him.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ Draco scolded himself, trying to calm his mad heartbeats, although his grip on his wand didn't loosen one bit. _Why would Black be here, of all places? You're being paranoid, just like mother. It's probably just an animal._

Quite a large animal, his unhelpful mind supplied, judging by the sound of it.

Sliding down from the top of the tunnel bridge as silently as he could, Draco crept closer to the edge of the tunnel, wand at the ready to fire off numerous curses he'd learned from Severus over the years. Careful not to step on any stray branch or crush any snow, he moved until he was pressed against the old stone structure, and peeked inside.

"P-Potter?!"

The name left his lips in a gasp, causing the other boy - who was sitting huddled in a thin jacket against the inner wall, small and shivering - to snap his head up, green eyes wide in obvious panic.

"Malfoy!" He gaped back, scrambling to stand up, supporting his uncontrollably shivering body by leaning against the wall. "What- how-"

"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?" Draco quickly regained his composure, any hint of his earlier playfulness or shock disappearing instantly as his usual sneer was settling back into place at the sight of his nemesis. Potter looked away, his shoulders tensing as he unconsciously moved back a little, farther into the darkness the tunnel provided.

"None of your business." He spat, his voice hoarse and scratchy, lacking its usual venom. Draco's eyes narrowed. Potter was avoiding his gaze. He was leaning away from him as much as the wall allowed him to, his posture defensive and on alert. He looked almost... ashamed?

"You are on my great-aunt's property. That's trespassing, which _does_ make it my business." Draco drawled and straightened up to his full height - which wasn't much - crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine." Potter hissed, straightening up as well, using his hand that was still pressed against the tunnel's inner wall as support. "I'll leave."

 _Wait, what...?_ Draco's arms dropped in surprise, lips parting without a sound as he watched Potter struggling to trudge through the snow and trash that littered the ground. "What do you mean, leave?" Draco exclaimed. "I didn't give you permission to leave!"

Potter's head snapped up once more, green eyes burning with an impossible fire that made Draco recoil as if he was struck. "Permission?" Potter growled, his hand falling away from the wall as he took one heavy step towards Draco, his face flushed, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Draco wasn't so sure it was just from the cold. "You think I give a crap about your _permission_?" He barked, his angry voice echoing in the tunnel.

And then he choked.

Potter's entire body shook with violent coughs, one hand covering his mouth, the other scrambling for purchase as it felt around for the wall again. All Draco could do was stand there, pinned to his spot, and watch dumbly as Potter fought to get his breath under control.

Now that he wasn't hidden in the shadows of the tunnel, Draco could see the sickly flush that stained his cheeks. His eyes were glassy and too bright, dark circles under them.

Draco's thoughts halted.

The dark spot near Potter's eye wasn't from lack of sleep, nor was it from sickness. His blood freezing in his veins, Draco realized Potter had been attacked.

_By whom?_

Wracking his brain is search for answers, Draco couldn't figure out what could have happened to Potter in the few days that'd passed since he'd last seen him, when the two of them had stepped off the Hogwarts Express along with the rest of their peers. Potter was fine then. A little disappointed at being sent home for Christmas - the first time Draco'd ever seen him do so - as the castle was being reinforced with more protective charms against Black, but otherwise healthy and uninjured.

Potter's wheezing coughs had suddenly turned into desperate gasps, and Draco shot forwards in alarm just as his grip on the wall became slack, and he slid down to the dirty ground, Draco's arms winding around his shaking body.

"L-let go," Potter rasped the moment he regained his breath, struggling weakly against Draco's hold. Draco scowled.

"What, so you could pass out in the snow like a frozen roadkill? Don't be stupid, Potter." He sneered. "You're coming with me." And with that, he stood up, pulling Harry Potter along.

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" Potter murmured, pulling the blanket closer around himself, still shivering even though he was no longer cold.

After smuggling Harry Potter into the manor, unseen - and withstanding a long lecture from his mother about sneaking out when there was a murderer on the loose - Draco had returned to his suite where Potter was waiting, already dressed in a pair some of Draco's silk pajamas after a long, warm bath that chased away the chill that had set into his bones. He found him curled in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a thick blanket and holding his wand at the ready as he watched the door like a hawk through glassy, exhausted eyes, one of which was black and painful-looking.

"Because, despite what you may think, I'm not completely heartless." Draco muttered bitterly, placing the tray he was holding down on the table near the sofa. There was a pot of steaming, hot tea bubbling away on it, two cups, a plate of sandwiches that made Potter's stomach audibly growl - much to the younger boy's embarrassment - and two vials of brightly coloured potions, which Draco had picked up first. "Here," he said, thrusting them both into Potter's hand. "One is a pepper-up, for your cold. The other is for... the pain." He faltered, unsure on how to broach the subject. He knew this was none of his business, and that the idea that Potter would ever share anything that personal with him was ridiculous at best... but he couldn't help but wonder how Potter had ended up the way he'd found him, sick and injured and so overwhelmingly defensive.

Deep down though, Draco already knew.

"I don't think you're heartless." Potter mumbled after downing both of his potions, wincing at the taste. He reached out for one of the sandwiches, but despite his obvious hunger only picked on it, shifting uncomforabley under the blanket. "Just... a real tosser, sometimes." He shrugged, giving Draco a sheepish smile that left the other boy to gape at him for a long moment, startled and indignant.

"Eat your sandwich." Draco snapped, getting up from the sofa as he snatched back the empty vials. "Then get in bed, you ungrateful twit. You have a fever."

"Wait," Nearly falling off the sofa in his hurry to get up, Potter called after him. "Bed? You're giving me your _bed_?" He cried, then hid his face in his sleeve as he fell into another coughing fit. "Malfoy, I can't take your bed," he gasped once he could breathe again, his tone almost pleading as he stared at his former enemy with two feverish green eyes.

"You can, and you will." Draco huffed, pulling off the sheets of his huge bed as if to stress his point. "You need rest, after whatever it was you were trying to do, running away like that."

Potter squirmed.

"I was trying to get to London, alright?" He mumbled, putting down his half-eaten sandwich. "To spend the rest of the holiday there, like I did this summer."

"On _foot_?" Draco gaped at him. "Potter, are you insane?"

Potter scowled. "Forget it." He hissed. He stomped towards the bed, flopping down on it without looking at Draco. Draco, on the other hand, was watching him carefully, taking in the defensive way Potter was holding himself, the way he was unconsciously curling in on himself as if to protect the tender parts of his body, the way he'd avoided Draco's gaze and never mentioned the fact he was sporting a very obvious, very painful black eye.

"Potter," Draco called softly as his... friend? pulled the covers over himself, lying down on his side and glaring at the wall. "If you need help..."

"I don't."

"Right." Draco winced at the cold tone. "Anyway... if you ever do, just know that I will be willing to help, alright? I won't judge. I promise."

Potter didn't reply. But when Draco finally settled into his makeshift bed on the sofa, and darkness fell over the large room... he could swear he'd heard a muffled sob.

The next morning, when Draco woke up, the room was empty. The bed was made, the silk pajamas were folded and placed on the chair, and the used vials of potions were washed and dried and placed back on the tray.

A small note next to the clean vials caught Draco's attention, and he sat up, reaching for it eagerly. A slow smile spread over his face as he read it once, twice, then folded it back again and put it in his pocket, as if to protect it.

_I'm sorry I called you a tosser. You're actually pretty decent, so... I take it back. I'm still going to London, I know I'll be safe enough there, and you won't have to worry your mother will find out you hid a boy in your bed._   
_Thank you for everything, and merry Christmas._   
_Look for me on the train?_   
_Harry._


	25. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the last chapter. Not gonna lie, I'm kind of surprised I managed to stick to schedule.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did, and I'd love to hear what you thought of my little bittersweet Christmas oneshots.
> 
> I wish you all a merry Christmas and happy holidays!
> 
> Note: This installment is heavily dealing with depression. It's my favorite, but it also might be as triggering as it was therapeutic to write, so please take care.

Grimmauld Place was quiet when Draco opened the front door.

Closing it slowly behind him, Draco took off his winter cloak and banished it to the laundry basket upstairs. There was so much a standard cleaning spell could do, as it was completely soaking wet and dirty along the bottom edges from the puddle Draco had stumbled into ealier on his way home, too distracted to watch where he was going.

Draco was worried. Earlier that evening, he had tried to firecall home to tell his husband that unfortunately, he was going to be a little late - and if Draco denied that that word still made him constantly break into spontanous smiles whenever he thought about it, even though he and Harry had been married for over three months now, that would be a gross and bold lie - but it was not Harry who'd answered the floo call, but Kreacher. That alone was enough to worry Draco and make him a little restless for the remainder of the day until he could come home and reassure himself that everything was alright. But coupled with fact that that very morning Harry had not wanted to come out of bed for an early breakfast, looking like he hadn't slept all night and showing the first signs of a Bad Day but still dismissing Draco's efforts when he said he didn't have to go and could stay with him if he wanted... needless to say, Draco was on edge.

"Harry?" He called quietly, moving from the hallway in silence, his socked feet soft on the old wooden floor. He peered into the quiet, empty kitchen and the somewhat dark living room that was only lit by the lonely-looking Christmas tree, frowning at the lack of fire that was usually the only thing that chased away the slight dampness that still clung to the old house despite Harry and Draco's best efforts at household charms.

Giving up on the empty ground floor, Draco made his way towards the wooden staircase, his frown growing deeper when he noticed the lack of light that surrounded the entire floor. There was a gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach as he approached their bedroom door, following the faint orange glow that could only come from the weak light orbs that floated around their bed.

"Harry?" Draco called again, his soft voice piercing the silence when he pushed the door open, his heart sinking as he stepped inside to find Harry lying curled up on his side, a mess of blankets piled around and over him in a chaotic disarray. It was clear as day that he hadn't moved since that morning, and Draco felt his stomach clenching in sympathy. He knew it was one of those days. "Oh, Harry," he sighed, swallowing the lump that suddendly appeared in his throat.

Draco approached the bed slowly, as if trying to calm an injured animal. But Harry wasn't fighting. He was lying quietly on his side, breathing slowly, steadily. His knees were pulled up a little, as if to protect himself, or in an attempt to find comfort, and his arms were curled up tight around his pillow, as if seeking the warmth that was not there. He was staring blankly at the wall, and a slow blink was the only indication he gave that he'd noticed Draco's presence at all. There were tear tracks already dry on his cheeks, and Draco felt his chest tighten as he sunk onto the messy mattress beside his husband, his fingers automatically finding their way into black curls.

"Have you eaten?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry shook his head.

Draco sighed. "I'll go get Kreacher to prepare something. You need to eat."

"No." Came the soft whisper.

"You haven't eaten anything all day." Draco tried again, but didn't pull his fingers away. "Please, love, let me get you something."

"No." Harry whispered again, his voice barely audible as hot tears welled up in his dull eyes, spilling over the side on his face as his grip tightened on his pillow. "Please, just stay. Please."

Draco felt his heart squeezing in his chest. He couldn't refuse that pitiful, heartbroken plea. He knew some water, food, and a change of scenery could do Harry a world of good when he was in this state, but he also knew that everything had its time. And right now, all his husband needed was him.

He shifted on the bed, moving into a more comfortable position. Now lying on his side behind his husband, chest pressed into his back in a protective cocoon with his head propped up on one arm, he buried his fingers back in the messy dark hair, brushing it, scratching it in slow, loving movements. He smiled sadly when he felt Harry melt against him, not commenting on the wet sniffles he heard as the tense muscles of Harry's back relaxed little by little into Draco's warmth.

"I'm sorry I'm like this." Harry suddenly whispered, his voice hoarse with tears and misuse. "And on Christmas."

Draco shook his head firmly, even if Harry couldn't see it, his fingers tightening in his hair for a short second before he forced them to relax into the lazy pattern once again. "Don't be." He said back, just as quietly. "I knew this when I married you. Neither of us is perfect, and that's alright. I love every side of you, Harry. I signed up for all of you, and I don't regret it one bit."

"But I ruined your Christmas."

"No, Harry." Draco leaned forwards, pressing a soft kiss into Harry's temple, his lips gently tracing his ear, cheek, the side of his mouth. He tasted the salty tears on Harry's damp skin with every kiss, and his fingers slipped from his hair to reach out and grab a hold of the hand Harry had clutching the pillow. "You are what makes my Christmas. Not the lights or the presents or the alcohol." He whispered into his ear, fingers entertwining together tightly. "That you are still here, with me... Harry, that's my joy."

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at [tumblr](http://tamyourue.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Reviews are food for a writer's soul.


End file.
